


Jabberwocky - part 2 - Mind-Rape

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Series: Jabberwocky - the gen stories [2]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Precognition, Season/Series 04, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4917415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Sheila Paulson</p><p>Servalan tries to steal Jabberwocky and Avon is forced to learn more about his own abilities</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jabberwocky - part 2 - Mind-Rape

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).
> 
> **Original Author's Notes:**
> 
> Previously published in 'Jabberwock Parts 1-4'.
> 
> Sequel to 'Jabberwocky - Link up'. Prequel to 'Jabberwock - Healer'.

"All right," said Blake, raking weary hands through his curly hair. "We'll try it one more time. Avon, this time, you take Tarrant's position."

      Avon and Tarrant obediently switched places, the pilot relinquishing his console to Avon who sat down and let his fingers hover expectantly over the controls.

      "Link up," Blake instructed.

      Avon only looked at him. His face was scornful and rigid, but when he spoke, he sound almost defensive. "Blake, you know that is impossible."

      "Is it? Tarrant managed it."

      "Tarrant's piloted this ship in linkage before."

      "He can't do it right without physical contact," Dayna replied. "I can manage it in the weapons' position, but I'm not sure I can do it elsewhere, and I think you're expecting too much of us, if you keep switching us around."

      "Dayna's right," agreed Soolin.

      "l don't think so. It's just that we aren't used to linking with Jabberwocky yet without Cally boosting. We've got to let him do his work, not block him."

      "I should think that would be impossible, Blake." Avon removed himself from the pilot's position and returned to his own, the one that controlled computer linkages, the detector shielding and the force wall.

      Cally rose from her seat on one of the couches at the front of the flight deck. "Avon, you have linked before. Why should this be different?"

      Cally was still regaining strength after her injuries on Terminal, though she was far better than she had been at first. Blake was not yet fully recovered from Gauda Prime but he was improving daily and Hugh had said he should be fit for action within the week.

      Avon gave Cally an unfriendly look. "Perhaps it is different because in past linkages, there had been physical contact. _You_ are the only telepath on board."

      "But it's not like that, Avon," Vila interrupted. "Jabberwocky's like a telepath himself, and he'll do all the work. You have only to let him."

      Avon remained sceptical. "Obviously it doesn't work that way, Vila," he pointed out.

      "But it should," Jabberwocky remarked. "You should be able to manage it, Avon. It's true you have high walls, but after all, you're my father, and you should understand how I work better than anybody but Cally."

      "For the last time, I am _not_ your father, and I would be gratified if you would refrain from that form of address in future."

      "Or you'll blast me?" Jabberwocky chuckled in that disconcertingly human way of his. "Wrong, Avon. I could force linkage with you, but I won't. Think about it, my friend. That's a part of your programming. You must have expected that we would meet one day."

      "It was my original intention."

      "But it's not your present one? I'm really crushed." Jabberwocky had a lamentable tendency for colloquialism, as far as Avon was concerned. Jabberwocky could be as precise as Orac when called for, and he was more formal while performing manoeuvres, as he would be in battle. But he was also programmed - if that were the right word, thought Avon sceptically - to interact with the crew in a relaxing and personal manner. Avon found it disconcerting.

      "Avon, I could assist you," Cally said softly, coming to stand facing him. "I could transmit the initial contact with Jabberwocky to you."

      "No, Cally," Blake objected. "If we can't all tie in with Jabberwocky for our assigned functions then we can't make this work. I don't expect it to come easy, Avon. It's going to take a lot of effort. We didn't learn to handle _Liberator_ in a few days. It took experimentation too. Right now, without the linkage, we can handle the ship adequately, but it will boost us and make us that much more efficient if we link up. Isn't that right, Jabberwocky?"

      "Right, Blake."

      "So I want to keep at it until we've got it down."

      "You've got a century or two to spare?" Tarrant asked sceptically. "We're _human_ , remember?"

      "So was Jabberwocky. So is Avon."

      "Are you sure of that?" Vila asked, ducking behind Hugh as he spoke.

      Avon threw a scornful glance at Vila, but he did not object because they were the very words he would have chosen to use himself. He knew, though he chose not to make it public, that it was his reluctance to open up to Jabberwocky that was preventing this test from succeeding. He could join the link when touched, but there was a portion of his mind that would not let himself yield without that impetus. Though he had tried to do it, he had also 'choked up' whenever he started.

      As if he realized that - which he probably did - Blake said, "All right, then there's no hurry. Tarrant, take back your station and we'll try it with you there. After that, we'll let Hugh try."

      Hugh had initially attended the Federation Space Academy to train as a pilot, and while nowhere near the pilot Tarrant was, he knew enough about Federation ships to be able to handle the task competently. He said now, "I'm willing to try it, Blake."

      Once Tarrant was in his position and Hugh had changed places with Avon, who retired to the couch beside Soolin, Blake closed his eyes, feeling his way into the link he held in his brain with Jabberwocky. He still looked uncomfortable sometimes in such a position, but he was getting better at it.

      "All right, Tarrant, link," Blake ordered.

      Tarrant hesitated, then he went into link mode while Avon watched sourly. Pulling his hands back from the controls, Tarrant was now seeing the readouts inside his head and interpreting them almost as rapidly as Jabberwocky did. It was the ship's responsibility to focus out non-essential stimuli, to keep the pilot-link's brain from being burned out by an overwhelming influx of data, and to sort through everything available and present what was needed to Tarrant instantaneously enabling him to interpret it without hesitation. Then he could manoeuvre the ship through the link without having to resort to the longer process of pushing buttons and handling levers or even speaking orders into the computer/receptor. Once accustomed to such control flexibility, the pilot could outmanoeuvre any other ship in existence, except for another mindship. And since _Jabberwocky_ was, so far, the one and only such ship, once the crew learned to utilize it to its full capabilities, they should be able to take on any ship in the entire Federated Worlds.

       _Jabberwocky_ now had the rudiments of a functioning teleport as well. Avon had worked at it with Orac and Jabberwocky, and when Blake had come, he had joined in as soon as he had recovered enough from his wounds to be allowed up long enough to be some use. At present, the teleport only wanted fine tuning and testing before it was pronounced fit for use. Then, given the adaptation of a photonic drive, Jabberwocky's dream to complete his modifications, the ship would be ready to confront the Federation.

      Avon grimaced at the idea. Fighting the Federation was not at the top of his list of priorities, but even he was willing to admit that he did not like the Federation, and he had agreed to Blake's plans. Someday, perhaps, he would teach himself how to link properly, and then it would be _his_ ship, as it was obviously meant to be. Until then, he could endure Blake's plans. That he was glad to have Blake back with them again was something he had admitted with extreme reluctance, and then only to himself, though he was reasonably certain that the others knew. Sentiment could not be allowed to interfere with his plans, however. This morning's failure had set him back, it was true, but his time would come, and this would be more his ship than _Liberator_ could have ever been.

      Tarrant took the ship through a series of complex manoeuvres, and Avon could see that Blake, in his control position, was linked with him and perhaps making suggestions for Tarrant to carry out, though the bulk of the display would come from Tarrant's piloting skills. In Avon's position, Hugh was linked too, and, curious, Avon got up and went round to peer over Hugh's shoulder, watching the force wall come on and shut down again without Hugh lifting so much as a finger. The detector shielding ran through its paces too, with a readout visible on the screens, though Hugh would be receiving it directly inside his head. Avon was gratified to see that his alterations to the shielding were as effective as he could have hoped.

      Now the weapons test was proceeding, and Avon turned to look at the main screen as the small asteroids they had agreed to use as targets for testing began to detonate before his eyes. Spinning around in surprise, he saw Dayna, an expression of pure bliss on her face, drawn into the linkage despite her scepticism, running through every weaponry test she could think of.

      Avon turned to the rest of the crew and saw Vila, sitting on the opposite couch from Soolin, his face blank and imbecilic as he linked too. Avon was surprised, then he shook his head. Privately, he could admit that there was more to the thief than Vila let on, though publicly he would have denied it categorically. Right now, though, Vila was useless in the test, having no function, and Avon frowned a little; still it would not harm Vila to accustom himself to the feel of the ship in manoeuvres.

      Beside him, Cally was in linkage too, but Avon suspected that in her case it was more for the 'joy' of telepathy than for any useful addition to the test, unless she was monitoring communications from here. As a telepath, Cally could certainly manage that, and theoretically, any of them should be able to function so, whether at their positions or not. For the novice, the position served as a frame of reference, and it seemed to be necessary so far. Already an experienced telepath, Cally might not find it necessary at all, especially since she was in telepathic union with Jabberwocky already. Curious, Avon strode to the communications console and asked Jabberwocky for a readout.

      "Here you go, Avon," Jabberwocky told him without losing any of his linkages, and the display revealed that Cally was indeed running through the program. She had lost none of her customary efficiency either, Avon observed.

      Finally he turned to Soolin, who had distanced herself from the others, a customary position though she now considered herself a member of the crew. Avon felt a tinge of resentment at her isolation, then with a moment of honesty, he wondered if that was how the others viewed _him_.

      The test came to an end then, and the crew separated into its individual components again. Jabberwocky took the ship, shunting it onto standard maintenance, while the others seemed to awaken as if from sleep. Tarrant stretched comfortably and lazily like a big cat, and his face was glowing.

      "I've _never_ felt anything like that before," he announced. "And I thought I was a pilot."

      "You _are_ a pilot, Del," Jabberwocky told him enthusiastically. "I think we surpassed even _my_ expectations. You can fly me any time."

      "Don't give him delusions of grandeur, Jabberwocky," Vila muttered. "He's bad enough already."

      "I know," the ship replied. "But this is different. I was right. It's going to be glorious when we can fight. Dayna, you did well too. I didn't think you'd come in."

      "Neither did I," she confessed, rubbing her temples. "I've got a bit of a headache, though."

      "So have I," Hugh confessed.

      "That's because you're using parts of your brain you haven't used before," Jabberwocky explained.

      "I think he's right," Hugh agreed. "We're firming up new muscles. How about you, Del? You had the most of it. Do you have a headache too?"

      "I feel wonderful."

      "Punch drunk," Avon said scornfully. "He wouldn't feel an amputation just now."

      "I don't have a headache either," Vila put in, wandering over to Blake's console and staring at Jabberwocky's main display. "Why don't I have a headache, Jabberwocky?"

      "One needs something inside one's head to have a headache," retorted Avon.

      Vila turned and made a face at him.

      "Vila did no work," Jabberwocky explained. "He only observed. That takes little energy."

      "No, and he's had plenty of practice at that," agreed Tarrant. "Ugh. I think I'm coming down now." He had gone a little pale, and he began to massage his temples too.

      "Useful," Avon pointed out. "If five minutes of testing can incapacitate us, we should be remarkably effective if we have to fight or run for hours."

      "It won't be like that, Avon," Blake cut in. "We'll have short practice sessions over the next few weeks and gradually build up. That'd work, wouldn't it, Jabberwocky?"

      "It should, Blake. All you need is practice. Think of a weightlifter."

      "Must I?" Avon asked.

      "You must. At first he will be in pain because he's using muscles for different work. But gradually he can lift heavier and heavier weights and work out for longer periods of time. The more we practice, the better we'll be. Yes, Vila," he added with amused tolerance. "You may have a _small_ glass of adrenalin and soma. Dayna, you too. And you, Del, if you need one."

      "I think I'd like a very _large_ glass," Tarrant retorted, but when they had been passed around, Jabberwocky left them to it. "Blake? How are you feeling?"

      "I don't have a headache," Blake replied. "I'm all right, just tired, and my side hurts a little."

      Avon averted his face at the reminder of Blake's injury.

      //Avon, I'm sorry.//

      It was Blake himself rather than Cally, and Avon raised an affronted brow at the thought of _Blake_ being able to invade his head, boosted, no doubt, by Jabberwocky. Could that damned computer read his thoughts? He wouldn't have it.

      Reluctantly, even angry as he was at the idea, he tried to formulate a silent response to Blake so the others wouldn't be aware of it. //Stay the hell out of my mind, Blake.//

      Whether Blake received it or not, Jabberwocky should be able to pick it up and project it. Blake grimaced and stood up, tentatively rubbing his wound. "It's all right, Avon," he said aloud. "Just a little stiff. I didn't mean to remind you of it."

      "You didn't."

      Blake's eyes caught and held his own. Blast the man; he could _always_ read minds, long before Jabberwocky had come along. He saw far more than Avon wanted him to do or was willing to concede possible.

      "Good," Blake replied to him, smiling a little. "I do know one reaction I have to the test. I'm hungry. Come and get a meal, Avon."

      Avon shook his head, half exasperated, then he laughed. "Why not?"

      "I'm hungry too," Vila offered hopefully.

      "When aren't you," said Avon. "You are not invited, Vila; Blake and I plan to work on the teleport. Unless," he added with a predatory smile, "you want to volunteer to teleport down to a planet to test it."

      "I still haven't forgiven you for threatening to dump me off that shuttle in Cally's dream," Vila retorted, retreating to the couch and flopping down ungracefully. "Keep your tests away from me, you homicidal maniac."

      "You tempt me, Vila."

      "Oh," said Vila uneasily. "Do I?"

      "Keep talking and you might find out."

      "You asked for that one, Vila," Jabberwocky put in cheerfully. "Hugh, why don't you run a quick scan on Blake and Cally. Want to try the mental link once more, or does your head hurt too much?"

      "I think I can manage," Hugh conceded. "We haven't done this out of the medical unit, Jabberwocky. What should I do?"

      "Link. Think you can manage?"

      Hugh closed his eyes, struggled against human nature a minute, then his face smoothed out "Got it," he muttered aloud, mostly for the benefit of the others; Jabberwocky would already know.

      "Good work," the ship praised him. "Okay, Blake, stand in front of my display, if you will."

      Avon was glad that Jabberwocky conducted most of his communication audibly even when he would have had an underlink with the person in question, but on the other hand, the damned ship oughtn't to be so tactful. Watching suspiciously as Blake complied, Avon saw Hugh's face crease with effort and a touch of strain, then it relaxed and a beatific expression replaced the tautness. "That's incredible," he breathed. "Blake, turn a little to your left; there, that's fine. All right I'm done. Cally?"

      She replaced Blake before the display, and Hugh studied her too, then he broke out of the link. "I can't believe it," he said. "It works wonderfully. Cally, you're fine. Blake too, but a vitamin solution wouldn't hurt. I think you're a bit anaemic. Nothing serious, and it's improving, but I've told Jabberwocky to prepare a dose for you."

      "Is it going to taste like your other noxious potions?" Blake asked in dismay, making a face like a little boy.

      "I hope so," Avon told him.

      "I ought to make you drink it with me," Blake retorted.

      Suddenly more at ease, Avon smiled. "I'm not _that_ sorry I shot you, Blake."

      Blake returned the smile. "Come along then. I'm still hungry."

      "You won't be after you've drunk your nice medicine," Avon retorted and followed him from the flight deck.

      

      "And how are we feeling this morning?"

      Former President and Supreme Commander Servalan concealed her distaste at the mock-cheerful form of address. She had to tolerate these fools, at least for the present, but there would come a time when she would be on the ascendancy again, and things would revert to normal. When that happened, she would no longer be required to suffer fools, if not gladly, at least not in silence.

      "I am completely well, and I see no point in remaining in this medical centre any longer. I have work to do. The mindship must be recovered."

      The surgeon smiled. "So you have said, Lt. Sleer. Today you have a visitor for that very purpose."

      She hid her concern. If it was someone who had known her as Servalan, she would have to kill him, and that could be difficult, held here as she was in the base's medical center, pending an inquiry. She was fairly certain she could exonerate herself; after all being forced to do something at gunpoint was not the work of a traitor, and she had been severely wounded by the Mellanby girl, damn her, and had been weeks recovering her strength. Not that it had been time ill used, because in that time, she had devised a foolproof method of recapturing the mindship. She had only to detail enough of her plan to the right ears and she would once again be on the road to power. So she smiled a little, hiding her apprehension, and said, "How nice. Who is it?"

      "Supreme Commander Arpel himself."

      Arpel. Servalan knew of him by reputation, but they had never met. Would he recognise her? She had let her hair grow longer since escaping from Terminal, and while by no means long, it was longer than it had been when she was Servalan. This morning, bored and impatient, she had tested her disguise by curling it, and though the curls were almost as tight as Dayna's, it made a slight difference to the shape of her face. By avoiding eye make up, she could tone down her eyes, and while she hated to mute what she considered her best feature, anything that could alter her appearance was worth it, as it might mean her life. The unisex tunic and trousers she wore as a patient in the base hospital helped too. She looked disgustingly plain, and she had applied a darker cosmetic base than she usually wore, which gave her an off-Earth appearance. Even Arpel should not know her.

      "Oh, how lovely," she said. "Such a great man, to waste time with someone like me." Then as if it had been an afterthought, "Surely you don't think he blames _me_ for the debacle with the mindship?"

      "The Supreme Commander does not confide in me," Dr. Melton replied and went to open the door. "Supreme Commander Arpel," he announced.

      Servalan knew that for the Supreme Commander to come here himself, it must be serious, and the loss of the mindship and its capture by Kerr Avon, one of the men whose work had helped in its development, could mean serious trouble. One man and one ship should not have been so great a threat, but that man and that ship together _were_ dangerous, and no one but she knew just how dangerous. She planned to point it out to Arpel, to enable her to get her own way in its recapture. The mindship would be hers one day. If Arpel didn't agree, then Arpel would have to die.

      Arpel walked into the room with a long-legged stride that brought him to the bedside rapidly. He turned and gestured for Melton to depart, and the surgeon closed the door quickly with himself outside. Servalan smiled.

      Arpel turned back to her and regarded her with eyes that were even more piercing than Kerr Avon's. He was a tall man, several inches past six feet, and older than she had expected; his hair was grey and receding, but that detracted nothing from the strength he projected as he stood over her like a hawk. Servalan felt herself a victim about to be pounced upon, and she loathed the feeling. Arpel's eyes were brown and deep, a weak willed woman might drown in them, but that was a ludicrous flight of fancy. Servalan sat up straight and faced him down, a look of cool inquiry upon her face.

      Arpel smiled, baring predatory teeth beneath a small, neat moustache. His high-cheekboned face was alert and wore concealed amusement like a mask, and Servalan, who had often directed just such a look against unwitting junior officers and people she considered beneath her dignity, did not like to see it turned against herself. She decided that when she regained her power, Arpel, would be the very first to go.

      "Supreme Commander, this is indeed an honour," she prated, deliberately making herself sound like a gushing girl who found power intriguing.

      He glanced down at a small personal screen he held and read from it. "Your name is Lt. Sleer, and you were assigned to Space Major Rendall Weed on the Mark 60 project?"

      "That is correct, Supreme Commander. And a more botched project I hope I shall never again have to see. Major Weed was a psychopath who planned to steal the Mark 60 for his own glory, but who could not defend it from the rabble who actually did steal it."

      "Indeed?" Arpel sat down on the visitor's chair and propped his booted feet upon the edge of the bed. "Weed may have indeed been a psychopath - and I confess that I agree with you in that estimation - but he did speak highly of you, Sleer."

      "He was not entirely a fool."

      That won her a display of even more teeth than before. Did the man have more of them than normal humans? "You forgive him his insanity because he praised _you_?"

      "Naturally not," she replied impatiently. Damn the man, he was not going to be easy, and she could scarcely resort to feminine wiles to help her this time around. That left her with her cold intellect, which would be more than sufficient, but she would need to be very wary. Arpel could not have risen to the post of Supreme Commander in such a short time without a great deal of skill and mental agility, and she would need to play her hand very carefully indeed.

      "You passed off the leader of this 'rabble' as a visiting scientist, did you not?" he asked.

      "He had a gun in my back. I had no choice."

      "Oh, come, Lieutenant. An intelligent woman like yourself _always_ has choices. Besides, it wasn't entirely a lie, was it? He was Kerr Avon. I've examined the tapes of the incident, and the officer he locked in the closet was able to provide a satisfactory description, plus information that Avon had given him that enabled us to identify him."

      "What information?" Servalan demanded suspiciously. "How could some fool on sentry duty have learned any such thing?"

      Arpel looked amused. "That's rather a good story, Sleer. It seems that the very popular game Ship and Asteroids - perhaps you have played it yourself - was programmed into the line of maintenance computers used on remote bases. Avon did much of the initial programming of such computers and he ran a line of computer games into the system. Games, I might add, that he developed himself."

      " _What!_ "

      "Why are you so surprised? Surely you know the man to be a computer genius."

      "Yes, but games? It does not seem in character with what I have read of him."

      This was nonsense. She could no more imagine Avon designing the vastly popular Ship and Asteroids game than she could picture him dancing at her inaugural ball. Of course it must have been a great many years ago.

      "Ah well, perhaps not," Arpel agreed. He crossed one booted foot over the other one and took from his pocket a pipe that he began to fill with tobacco, a habit Servalan regarded with disgust. "Do you mind if I smoke?" He asked, a formality since surely no one would be expected to disagree with the Supreme Commander.

      "Yes, actually," she replied coolly. "I am recovering from lung damage."

      He left the pipe dangling from the corner of his mouth, but he doused the lighter. "Let us get down to serious business, Sleer."

      "Very well. I have a plan that will enable us to recover the Mark 60."

      "I thought perhaps you might."

      Now what did he mean by that? She smiled at him, though she wanted to knock his ridiculous pipe down his throat. Obviously he was not a native of Earth; dome dwellers did not habitually smoke because of the danger of fire in an enclosed environment, and only Alphas had the ability, or the power, to flaunt such rulings. If this man was a born Alpha, she would be astonished, but he had the steel trap mind of one; she could see it lurking behind his eyes.

      "I have worked closely with the Mark 60, Supreme Commander," she explained. "As yet, we had formed no real link with the computer/brain but had contented ourselves with test links tied to individual ship functions. The ship was rather - irreverent," she added with a curl to her lip. "The human brain involved retained some distasteful elements of its original personality, and Weed wanted to expunge them before a permanent link was made. However, that had not yet been completed. Avon stole the mindship, no doubt using the computer Orac to identify its location. Avon is, I am told, a cold and unfeeling man. It seems unlikely that he would submit to the mental union necessary in a linkage with the ship, and even more unlikely that he would permit it to form a bonding with one of his crew immediately."

      "You seem quite well acquainted with Avon and his crew, Sleer."

      "Do I? Surely it is to my advantage to learn as much as possible about my adversaries? Avon took the mindship from _me_! I resent that. It makes him my own personal enemy, someone I must vanquish."

      "You are vindictive, Sleer."

      "Perhaps. I prefer to think of it as retribution. However, that is not the issue here. Recapturing the mindship must surely be the Federation's goal, and Space Command's as well. As I have said, my familiarity with the mindship gives me the best chance you have of recapturing it."

      "And how do you plan to do that?"

      "Avon numbers in his crew a telepath." Servalan pointed out. "Cally, who is from the planet Auron. I view her as the greatest danger to our recapture of the mindship. If she were to link with it, she would forge a deeper bond than a human could achieve, and a harder one to sever."

      "If we're to talk of severing bonds, we must remember that the ship has some choice in the link." Arpel uncrossed his legs and stood, staring out the window that gave a superb view of the back of the administration building. "Severing it could burn out the ship's brain and render it useless."

      "Better than leaving it in Avon's hands," Servalan pointed out, rising and joining him at the window. "But I am not so clumsy as that, Supreme Commander." If he heard the slight edge of mockery in her voice every time she accorded him her former title, he showed no trace of it. "If that is the only option, then so be it. It would be easy to kill the telepath and break the linkage that way. But it would be far better to replace the telepath with one loyal to the Federation."

      "How would you manage that? You are no telepath, Sleer."

      "No, I could, unfortunately, never break the link short of killing the linkee. But there are those who could."

      "Telepaths," Arpel realised, turning to look down at her. A tall woman herself, Servalan did not like the feeling.

      "Correct," she said. "Telepathy controlled by _me_. Or," she added carelessly, "you. However, I am the one with the most experience of the mindship, short of Dr. Koscu." She referred to the scientist who had discovered Avon's early works and who had taken them to this conclusion.

      "Koscu is dead," Arpel reminded her. "So is Major Weed. I find it fortunate for you, Sleer that that is so. You would be of no value to me otherwise."

      She stared at him, masking her reaction to his words. He had already considered a plan such as hers, and he had come here to see if she had the wits to think of it on her own. If not, her familiarity with the mindship would not have been enough to allow her continued involvement in the project. Damn his eyes. It was going to be a pleasure killing him when this was done.

      "You do mean to use my plan?" she said.

      "Shall we call it 'our' plan, rather?" He smiled at her again. "I could almost wish my psi powers were stronger, Sleer. I would enjoy the severing myself. However, a wise man knows his limitations and I am not prepared to battle an Auron telepath with my puny gifts. You will locate someone who can be threatened, easily suborned, or convinced that his loyalty to the Federation can best be so demonstrated. Then you will locate the mindship and send your telepath in to do his damage. He will need to be very well shielded, as the Auron might recognize him as such."

      "You state the obvious, Supreme Commander."

      "Yes, Servalan, I do."

      She was too well trained to react to her name, but she looked up at him with shielded eyes. "I do not understand. My name is - "

      "Servalan, President and Supreme Commander of the Terran Federation." He made her a mocking little bow. "I have studied your statecraft, Servalan. Or perhaps it would be wise to call you Sleer. I doubt we are being monitored, not with this." He drew a small jammer from his pocket and displayed it before her startled eyes. "But habits are hard to break. Sleer, then. Yes, you and I have much to do together."

      "I work alone, Arpel."

      "Previously you worked alone. Now, of course, you are working for me. Perhaps I might allow you to regain the presidency."

      She looked at him in surprise. "With you the power behind the throne? Oh, no, Arpel."

      "I like Space Command," Arpel said. "It suits a man of my abilities down to the ground. You should know. I want to do away with Blake's rabble as much as you do. Perhaps you are unaware that I have just come from breaking up a nest of them on the planet Gauda Prime? Blake himself managed to escape - a pity, that, but a temporary problem that I will soon remedy. I infiltrated one of my best officers into his base, a woman called Arlen. Perhaps you know her?"

      "I know of her, yes."

      "Blake was functioning under the guise of a bounty hunter on Gauda Prime," Arpel told her. "Arlen went in under cover and paved the way for our attack. It would have been a flawless move but for a wild card. Can you guess what it was?"

      "Avon," she replied with certainty.

      "Avon and your mindship. It had unique abilities. It stunned my men, leaving Avon and his allies untouched. If Blake survived, he might now be with Avon. Yes, you can see why it would be to our advantage to retrieve the mindship, can't you, Sleer?"

      "I never doubted it. One of them must have linked with it. Not Avon, perhaps, though he would want to. Cally, most likely. Or possibly Tarrant. He is a gifted pilot."

      "Or even Avon, in spite of your scepticism."

      "I hope it _is_ Avon," she replied. "I would enjoy seeing his mind ripped away. When must I begin, Arpel?"

      "Immediately. And, Sleer, remember something. Even with the mindship, you are a wanted woman. Should you cross me in any way, I might decide that the galaxy has harboured you long enough. I am powerful enough to accomplish it now. And if you kill me with that little gun concealed upon your person, you will not leave this base alive."

      "I would never kill _you_ , Arpel," she purred at him. "You are indeed a man after my own heart."

      "Forgive me if I disbelieve you, Sleer."

      "I would think you a fool if you didn't."

      

      "Information," Orac announced.

      It was main watch and everyone was there but Dayna, who had had the last night watch and needed to sleep. Cally seemed to need less sleep than the others since her injury, and she was there too, though she had had the watch before Dayna's.

      Blake turned toward Orac with a sidelong glance at Jabberwocky, as if he had received prior notice. Tarrant looked at him suspiciously. Though he knew that Blake's link with the ship was different from what Cally's had been, he still found it difficult to believe that Blake would not know ahead of time what Orac meant to tell him, if Jabberwocky did, and he guessed that Avon suspected it too, for the computer expert, who had been sitting on the couch putting the finishing touches on the prototype teleport bracelet, looked up and studied Blake sceptically.

      "What is it, Orac?" Blake asked.

      "I have been monitoring the computer banks and communications on Dayson Prime," Orac replied "I have just picked up information that the new Supreme Commander has visited that world."

      "New Supreme Commander?" Vila echoed. "That's all we need, another one, probably on our trail too. Why can't any of them leave us alone?"

      "Who is the new Supreme Commander?" asked Tarrant.

      "His name is Sharn Arpel," Orac informed them.

      "I've heard of him, Tarrant," Jabberwocky cut in.

      "So have I," the pilot agreed, grimacing. "He's smart, one of the best officers Space Command has got. He doesn't look it though, and he can fool people. He doesn't go out of his way to be devious either."

      "Natural talent?" Vila asked.

      "If you say so. Anyway, in some ways, I would prefer him to Servalan because he's not power hungry. But he has a good opinion of his abilities. I wouldn't quite call him ruthless, but he is in some ways. He's a patriot."

      "Then he's a fool," insisted Avon, raising his eyes briefly from the disassembled teleport bracelet and starting at Tarrant. "Or you are."

      "But he's not, Avon. I think he's an idealist with enough power to try to make things go the way he wants them to do. He knows that people like Servalan were corrupt, but instead of making a big fuss about it, he's probably been working away to do something about it."

      "He'd have to be three hundred men to do any good," objected Hugh. "I know of him too, Del, and he's not the great idealist you think he is. He's convinced that the Federation is right, though some of its methods are wrong. He won't be any easier on us than Servalan was. He'll consider us nothing but terrorists and feel it his duty to put us down. Give him two lifespans and he might make some reforms, but that's the best we could expect. Orac, what's he doing on Dayson Prime?"

      "You won't like this," Orac replied, "but he went there to meet with Sleer."

      "He _what_!" That brought Avon to his feet. "Are you saying Servalan is alive?"

      "Yes, actually. It is unfortunate. Supreme Commander Arpel met with Servalan - or Sleer, as she now calls herself - for several hours. They used a damper and the conversation was not monitored, but when it was finished, Arpel gave orders that a ship be assigned to Sleer. Nine ships left Dayson Prime at the appropriate time, and I have attempted to monitor them. Two of them lacked tarial cells, and both of them have vanished."

      "I don't like the sound of that," Vila murmured in worried tones. "She knows we're alive, and she'd have to guess we have Orac. She's going to sneak up on us."

      "Sneaking up on _you_ shouldn't be that difficult," Avon retorted. "I don't imagine _you_ have kept track of her?" he asked, turning to face Jabberwocky's display.

      "Sorry. I can't track at that range, Avon. We do know that neither ship was heading this way, though."

      "Not reassuring." Blake replied. "If Arpel met with Servalan and didn't have her killed, then it sounds as if she might be making a comeback. I'd say she'd have to prove herself to him."

      "By finding _us_ ," Soolin suggested.

      "I don't like this," wailed Vila.

      "Don't you?" Avon looked at him scornfully. "We have the fastest and best equipped ship in the Federated Worlds, and Servalan has no idea where to look for us. _We,_ however, know she is hunting _us_. In several days at the most, the teleport will be fully functional, and we will be, if not invincible, at least ready to face her on our terms."

      "Will we?" Blake frowned. "Avon, none of us want her more than I do, unless it's Dayna, but I'm not prepared to risk our lives actively hunting her."

      "Then she might come hunting us first."

      "Avon's right," Tarrant agreed. "I'd rather be looking for her than have her come after us when we aren't expecting it."

      "I'd rather hide," Vila put in.

      "That doesn't surprise us," Soolin remarked. "Blake, do you mean to hunt her?"

      "Not immediately. We must finish the teleport tests and we must meet with Avalon. She might have sources that could help us learn where Sleer has gone. What do you think, Avon?"

      "I would prefer to face her, if we must face her, with a fully functional ship. I agree, however, that face her we must. _She_ owes _me_."

      "You're not the only one, Avon," Blake reminded him.

      "I don't know why we have to go looking for her," Vila complained. "All we ever do is get in trouble when we meet her, and I'd like it if we never saw her again - nasty woman. She'll probably get us all killed, and I'm too young to die."

      "Do you want to give her time to develop a plan against us first, Vila?" Blake asked him. "I think we need to see what's going to happen with her. If she's working with her replacement, then the odds are that she could be functioning much as Travis did when he became a renegade. If she is successful, she might regain power, and if not, there'd be no great loss, but they'd back her if she came through, and they'd keep her supplied with equipment to do the work. I think we'll need to maintain a constant watch for her. If we are her ticket back to power, she'll be more ruthless than before."

      He turned to face Avon. "How are you getting along with that?"

      Avon lifted his eyes from the reassembled teleport bracelet. "It's finished," he remarked. "What I need now is someone to test it. Vila?"

      Vila backed away with a suspicious look.

      "I'll do it, Avon, " Blake offered. "I trust you, and besides, I know more about teleport systems than Vila does."

      "That's right, Avon," Vila agreed quickly. "Blake's your man. Our fearless leader and all."

      Avon shot him a disgusted look, but he stood up, passing the bracelet to Blake. "It will function much as _Liberator's_ did," he explained, "incorporating a communicator. Let us retire to the teleport section."

      Everybody came but Soolin, who offered to take the watch, and Tarrant thought with surprise that Avon had come on a lot since they'd got Blake back that he would permit her to do so, though with Jabberwocky linked to Blake, there wasn't much she could do to interfere with the smooth running of the ship.

      "Is that the only bracelet?" Tarrant asked as they took the lift to the hangar deck, where the teleport system had been installed.

      "It is the only completed one," Avon replied. "They should work; Orac assures me that they will. But I saw no sense in completing a collection of them unless they prove satisfactory under testing."

      "So you're letting me play guinea pig?" Blake asked cheerfully.

      "Exactly. It _will_ work, Blake."

      Blake clipped it on; it was a tighter fit than the _Liberator's_ bracelets had been, but the band was a bit wider.

      Vila had brought Orac; Tarrant noticed with a grin that he was getting in the habit of doing so without waiting for Avon to order it. Once Orac was placed beside the controls, Avon inserted the activator.

      "Orac," he said, leaning over the computer. "The first test of the teleport system is ready to begin. Should it misfire, is the life pod activated and ready to be sent down for Blake?"

      "You can send that old junk heap you've got cluttering my hold," Jabberwocky cut in. "I think you should dump it, Blake, but it might work better than the life pod. I see no reason why the bracelet won't work, but I'd suggest Tarrant fire up the old ship and be ready if someone needs to go down."

      So Tarrant did, then stood by just outside its main hatch, waiting. "All right, Blake," he said. "I'm ready."

      

      Blake took his place somewhat nervously. It was not that he did not trust Avon's handiwork - on _Liberator_ he had frequently seen the gifts Avon possessed and the ways he could use them. Now he looked at Avon, who was standing at the teleport controls, his face as unconcerned as if this were some minor, inconsequential test, and grinned at him. "I'm ready, Avon."

      "Test communications first," Avon suggested.

      Blake raised the bracelet to his lips. "Testing."

      The sound bounced around the enclosed space, and Avon nodded to himself. "Right. Putting you down - now." He pulled a row of levers.

      Blake felt his body tingle, things faded around him - and then he was on the planet's surface in the bright sunlight, and he squinted at the light.

      //That's really something,// Jabberwocky announced. //I'm impressed, Blake.//

      "So," said Blake aloud, "am I." He took up his gun in case of trouble and turned slowly, surveying the scene.

      They had chosen a world that both Jabberwocky and Orac reported to be uninhabited with no large or hostile life forms, but there could always be dangers on a new world. When nothing attacked or threatened him in any way, Blake lifted the bracelet and spoke into it. "Down and safe, Avon," he reported. "It worked like a charm."

      "So Jabberwocky reported," Avon replied, sounding unsurprised. "We'll pick you up now."

      "Wait a minute, Avon. I want to have a look around."

      "We didn't put you down there for the scenic tour, Blake."

      "I know that, and I'm as anxious to get on with our mission as you are." He smiled to himself, picturing Avon's expression at that comment. "But five minutes won't matter."

      "They might," Avon replied, but he didn't push it, and Blake took a few minutes to take a look around the landing site. Still unthreatened, he breathed in the fresh, unfiltered air, and felt the warmth of the yellow sun, wondering why the Federation had never bothered to colonize this planet. True, it was a little remote from their regular space lanes, but that didn't seem a disadvantage for settlers.

      Then something huge roared very close at hand, and Blake's fondness for communing with nature vanished without a trace. "Avon, bring me up," he ordered.

      "Are you finished with your sightseeing tour already?"

      "There's something down here, Avon, and it sounds hungry."

      "Well now, perhaps that goes with a love of the outdoors." But before Blake had time to be seriously alarmed, the tingle returned and he was back on the ship.

      "What kind of something sounded hungry?" Vila asked.

      "I didn't see it, but it sounded big," Blake replied.

      "Curious. There was not supposed to be anything threatening down there," Avon answered. "Jabberwocky, did you pick it up?"

      "No, but I could hear it. It sounded nasty, Avon."

      "Well there goes another holiday resort," Vila mourned, but not too sadly. Blake grinned, knowing Vila's preference would be for some place with good bars and plenty of things to steal.

      "But if Orac and Jabberwocky didn't pick up anything - " Avon went on, obviously intrigued by the mystery.

      "No," cut in Blake. "I don't intend to go back down there. For all I know, the entire planet's alive, like Zil's world. I don't want to experience anything like that again. Orac and Zen didn't report on that one immediately either."

      "Maybe we should leave at once," Vila suggested quickly. "Do something safe instead, like meeting Avalon and taking on the Federation."

      Hugh laughed at Vila's expression, but he had gone into link-mode, and was studying Blake, who looked at him in surprise.

      Jabberwocky gave a chortle inside his head that the others could hear and said, //I pulled him in, Blake. I wanted to run a check. I didn't pick up anything dangerous but he's a doctor.//

      If any of the others noticed Hugh's link-up, they said nothing, but Blake smiled to himself. He could see that as they became more accustomed to Jabberwocky, there would be nothing they couldn't accomplish. It occurred to him that the Federation hadn't understood half the implications of what they had developed. If they had, they would have surrounded it with the entire Federation space fleet, and guarded it so closely that no one could have got through to it.

      //They pictured me linking with a pilot to fly the ship more efficiently,// Jabberwocky told him. //Sleer knew I was something more, though she didn't care for my personality. Well, I didn't like hers much either. But even she didn't know quite what she had here.//

      Avon must have noticed Hugh's link, because he turned to him. "Well?" he demanded.

      "He's fine, Avon. I don't find anything wrong at all."

      "Then I shall set about producing more bracelets," Avon announced. "Very well, Blake. We're ready to go to meet Avalon."

      

      Servalan waited another week before she contacted the agent she meant to use to steal the mindship back from Avon. She knew that only a gifted telepath would be of any use at all, and the one gifted telepath still likely to be on her side was very strategically placed, or so she hoped. He was working in deep cover, with Avalon and her rebels. After the debacle with the Avalon robot, Servalan had known that the woman would bear watching, and so she had set about insinuating a spy into her organisation.

      It had taken time and a lot of work, but eventually she had been successful. The man she had chosen was a human telepath, one with an exceptionally high psi rating. He had the ability to mask his gifts too, so that he could fool even other telepaths unless they made a direct mental attack on his mind, and even then he could shield himself and block his thoughts. Servalan had not intended him to report day to day operations for she had other sources of information, but to keep her posted regarding major events. He had been a mole in Avalon's organization waiting for the right moment when she needed him the most, and it seemed to her that this was the right moment. So she sent him a coded message arranging to meet him at a convenient neutral location, then she went there to wait for him.

      The telepath's name was Witt. He was a tall, gangling man in his middle thirties, with big hands and feet. His eyes were huge and brown and wore a characteristic air of vulnerability that had fooled too many people but had never fooled Servalan. No one could be as innocent as Witt chose to appear. He came across as a bumbler, a character in a comedy viscast, and it served to mask his gifts which included, in addition to his telepathy, a skill at unarmed combat and a brain that was almost a match for Servalan's own. He seemed to love his fellow men, but she suspected that he held everyone in contempt, even - dare she think it? - herself.

      She was waiting in the bar that had been set as their meeting place when Witt suddenly arrived. Though she had been looking for him, she had not seen his approach. One moment he had not been in the room, the next he was bounding to her table like an eager puppy, his eyes glowing with pleasure at what he meant to seem a chance meeting. "What are you doing here?" he crowed, loudly enough for everyone in the bar to hear.

      She did not want the attention, but after the inevitable curious glances, people turned away again, and she wondered if he had caused that too. She offered her cheek to be kissed, impatient with the show and eager to begin their planning, but for the first ten minutes, he babbled at her about long lost friends and imaginary acquaintances. It was only when he was quite sure that no one in the bar could have the slightest interest in such inanity that he got down to business, though he still wore the boyish look of eager delight that he had worn all along. The man's face must be his fortune, she thought cynically, annoyed at the feeling that perhaps he had manipulated her as well as the other patrons of the bar.

      "Witt, I have need of your skills," she said in an undertone.

      "But of course, my lady. Why else would you send for me? I've been anticipating our meeting, because you are one of the very few people in the Federation who might have something worthy of me."

      "I will expect you not to fail me," she told him coldly. "Even you are expendable."

      "Of course," he replied, smiling. "If I should fail, then I'll deserve what I get, won't I. But what's this I hear about you losing your power? Sloppy of you, Servalan. I must say I'm shocked."

      "Shocked enough to betray me?"

      "Never that. I'm sure this is only a temporary setback." He caught the waiter's eye and flagged him down, ordering drinks. Servalan was both annoyed and gratified to note that he still remembered what her favourite drink was. When the man had gone, he said, "What name are you using these days, then?"

      "Sleer."

      "Short and not very sweet. Never mind. You'll be yourself again in no time. I know a winning side when I see one. What may I do for you?"

      "I will not tell you that here."

      "Where better? I've a damper in my pocket, and we could do it mentally anyway. You can't eavesdrop on a thought."

      "I'm not a telepath," she said impatiently.

      "And I'm not an Auron. I can read you if you project, whether you're a telepath or not, and I can do it a lot faster too. So tell me that way while you pretend to be lost in my big brown eyes. Everyone here thinks us long lost lovers anyway."

      "You presume far too much, Witt," she said savagely.

      "Do I? Where else will you find a willing tool who doesn't desire power for himself? Because I _could_ take it if I wanted it, Sleer. Don't doubt that. The difference between us is that you want power, obvious and easily demonstrated, while I am content with a different form of control."

      "One which could make me very suspicious."

      "True. But think of this. I could lull your suspicions if I wanted to do. I haven't done it. And I won't. I respect your mind, Sleer. I respect anyone who can go for what they want with the directness and the subtlety you possess." //What do you want me to do?//

      She told him, in her mind, about the Mark 60 and its capabilities, and for the first time, she saw a touch of greed spread across Witt's face. He heard her out, questioning her from time to time about the mindship's abilities, and the more she told him, the wider his eyes went. She wondered in annoyance if they were about to pop out.

      When she had told him as much as she considered it appropriate for him to know, she added, //Avon has the mindship now. I believe that Tarrant and Cally may be with him, and that one of three of them will have formed a link with the ship. Dayna Mellanby and Vila Restal seem to be there too, but we can safely ignore them for what you mean to do.

      //Actually it will be easier than you think, Servalan.// His eyes danced with suppressed amusement. //Roj Blake has joined them.//

      " _WHAT!_ " She was startled into an oral exclamation. "You're mistaken, surely."

      //No, Servalan. Blake lives. Blake has contacted Avalon and is on his way to her now. If I hurry back, I could arrange to be there when they arrive.//

      //But are you certain Avon and Blake are together?// Arpel had implied the possibility, but she had not known if Blake was still alive. Arpel had told her that Blake had been shot, perhaps killed by Avon himself. How she had enjoyed the idea of that, for whatever reason it had happened. But if Blake lived, why should he even consider an alliance with Avon, with the man who had shot him? In the face of Witt's report, she wondered if Arpel had been wrong, but he was not the kind of man who is wrong. It made no sense to Servalan, and she hated that.

      //I'm very certain,// Witt replied. // I wouldn't tell you a rumour. I was there when Avalon got the message. She _trusts_ me, you see. Ironic, isn't it? I'm your man, and you don't trust me. She thinks I'm hers, and she does.//

      //Never mind that now, Witt. This is what you must do. I want you to be assigned to the mindship in one way or another. Is that possible?//

      //Nothing easier, I should think. After I've taken it, how am I to rendezvous with you again?//

      //At what distance can you read me?//

      //Not that far, unfortunately. I could send to you though and tell you where to meet. You would have to make yourself receptive about the appropriate time. Can you do it, or are you too suspicious and defensive for that?//

      //For something this important,// Servalan sent to him, // I will do whatever is necessary.//

      

      Avalon had temporary headquarters on the planet Ryalon, remote from Federation shipping lanes and _Jabberwocky_ was scanned from some distance out before Blake was questioned about passwords. While developing his base on Gauda Prime, he had been in frequent communication with Avalon, and it was not hard to reopen communications. The end result was that Blake, Avon and Cally were to teleport down to meet with Avalon and two of her people.

      "I presume you are quite certain this is not a trap?" Avon asked him as they assembled in the teleport section.

      "Reasonably," Blake replied. He had always enjoyed Avon's continual objections, as long as they did not get out of hand. Now he grinned as he fastened on his teleport bracelet and turned to look at the computer expert. "Why? Don't you want to come down?"

      "I do want to come down," Avon replied. "Not that I consider myself a rebel, but I will be interested to see if Avalon had managed to fashion anything with a remote chance of success. It's to my advantage to see the Federation fall."

      "I'm anxious to go." Cally came up behind them and took a bracelet from the tray. "Blake, Jenna had met Avalon before. Do you think it's possible that Avalon will know anything of her?"

      "Anything is possible," Blake replied. "But it's something I've already asked her when looking for the rest of you."

      "Yes, and so devotedly," Avon murmured under his breath.

      "I knew you would find me," Blake pointed out placidly. "And so you did, Avon. Are you ready?"

      Vila had come along to operate the teleport, and for a moment, it felt like the old days on _Liberator_ , with none of the others here. Blake found himself remembering things, good and bad, and smiling a little. During the year he'd been apart, when he and Deva had been working on Gauda Prime, he had often thought of Avon and the others, and _Liberator_ and had missed them much more intensely than he had imagined possible. They had always fought, but even though they had not entirely shared the same purpose, they had been a united group, together against the Federation. Full of their own insecurities and suspicions, they had still managed to achieve a kind of trust, a fragile and tentative trust to be sure, but enough to know that they would watch each other's backs when the chips were down. Now on _Jabberwocky_ , Blake felt the linkage with the ship in the back of his mind, and Jabberwocky assured him without words that the trust was building again. //Even Avon,// Jabberwocky finished. //I'm probably giving away secrets, but he was very determined to find you. It wasn't because of Cally's dream either. That was just his excuse. I think you get to him, Blake.//

      //And he resents it.//

      //Probably. But that doesn't make it any less real. He's your man as much as the others are. He'll follow you almost anywhere, complaining loudly all the way, but he'll still be there.//

      //I hope I don't let him down this time.//

      //Never deliberately, Blake. Make sure he knows that. He won't admit it, but he needs reassurances as much as the next man.//

      //Probably more,// Blake mused.

      //It won't be easy.//

      //Avon was never easy. But he's worth it, Jabberwocky. If I know he'll back me, I can do _anything_.//

      

      Avalon was waiting for them, flanked by two of her lieutenants, one a big burly man with a long curling moustache and the other a tall, gangling fellow with liquid brown eyes and the face of a sad clown. When they had materialized, Avalon came forward and offered her hand to Blake. "It's good to have you here at last," she said; "Now the real work begins."

      "It's a good thing Vila isn't here," Avon muttered under his breath to Cally, who gave him a nudge in the side for silence.

      "We're ready for it," Blake agreed. "You remember Avon and Cally?"

      "Very well. And these are Myles and Witt, two of my best men. I have been thinking about what you asked me when you contacted me, about Dr. Plaxton and the photonic drive. It might be a good idea to outfit several of our ships with it, but it's still experimental. We would need to look at your ship and see if it would be appropriate. We'd also like to try to adapt your teleport system for some of our own ships."

      "That sounds fair enough," Blake agreed, ignoring the hasty and abortive protest that Avon would have made if Cally had not suddenly trodden on his foot. "We have to be at our best if we're to bring this off."

      "So far we haven't had the organization to do much," Avalon replied. "But this latest pacification program can be used to our advantage. It's going to bring more worlds over to our side, if we can organize them. Shall we go into the conference room and get down to it?"

      Cally looked around with interest. Though Avalon's base was small and obviously set up to be dismantled at a moment's notice should the Federation get wind of them, it had a look of efficiency and a permanence that was not belied by the prefabricated air. Blake's rebellion had been a hit and miss thing and Cally had followed Blake knowing that the overall picture had needed more than they could ever hope to achieve, but knowing too that Blake was a symbol to the masses. 'Blake's rabble', as Avon called them, needed someone to hold up as an example. Blake had managed to break free of the system, even escaping from Cygnus Alpha and Federation mind control to do it. If he could do it, it was possible for others, and though the practical part of Cally had longed for something more concrete than hit and run raids and terrorist attacks, she knew that they had made a beginning. Now they might be able to do more. _Jabberwocky_ might not be quite as formidable as the _Liberator_ had been, though they could work on that, but there seemed to be a good feeling growing among the crew. She didn't know how much of that was due to Hugh Tiver and his ability to lower his guard and get those around him to do the same, and how much was due to the linkages formed by Jabberwocky, or even by Blake's return after Avon had come so close to killing him. She felt that Avon had come out of that incident realizing how much he did indeed care for Blake, even if he couldn't openly admit it, and she thought it showed in their interactions. Avon was not as vitriolic as he had been, though he was still very wary.

      Thinking of Avon, she turned to look at him now, and she saw him hovering protectively at Blake's side as they were shown into the conference room. His eyes roamed the corridors, then swept the room quickly as if looking for danger, and he didn't move away from Blake until he was certain that there was nothing detectably wrong in the room. Cally hid a smile. Avon might criticise Blake and call him seven kinds of fool, but his body language gave him away to anyone who knew what to look for.

      Avalon took her place at one end of the table and gestured to Blake to take the other. She had set up terminals at each position, and Avon promptly activated his and began to play with it. Avalon gave him an interested look; possibly she was remembering that Avon had done some minor reprogramming to the Avalon robot that Travis and Servalan had fooled them with in an attempt to capture the _Liberator_ , but she made no objections.

      "Avalon's been telling us about things you can help us with, Blake," said Witt, the man with the sad clown's face. "If there's anything to making contact with various planetary leaders, I know a good way to get you started."

      "What's that?" Blake asked.

      "My home world's Eridani Major. It's one of the worlds where the Federation is about to begin a pacification program. I don't like the idea of that, and if you'd be willing to put up with a passenger on the first leg of your journey, I'd be happy to go along and put you in touch with the local rebels."

      Avon's visible reaction was one of suspicion, and Cally glanced over at him and tried to catch his eye, but he was watching Blake, a frown on his face. She knew he would welcome no one on _Jabberwocky_ that he could not trust - though he did not admit to trusting those already on board, Cally knew he did in his own peculiar way - and though Witt was obviously one of Avalon's trusted lieutenants, Avon himself had no such guarantees.

      "Well, it's something to consider," Blake replied. "I've never been to Eridani Major, and someone with local knowledge might be helpful. What do you think, Avalon? A good beginning?"

      "Maybe," she conceded. "Witt's been with me for several years, and I'd recommend him. I'd hate to lose him, though, even for that length of time."

      "Now you know I'm not indispensable, fair lady," Witt informed his leader cheerfully. "I like the idea of being indispensable, especially to you, but we've got to put the cause first, haven't we?" He winked at Cally. "Besides, their new ship sounds wonderful, and I'm curious. Is there any chance it could be duplicated, Blake?"

      "Not without a lot more resources than we've got so far," Blake replied. "There's a lot more to it than I'd realized at first. I'd like Dr. Plaxton to see it though, and see if there's any way we could get a little more speed out of it, though we're fast enough for now."

      "With this type of technology available to the Federation, even in a prototype ship, Blake, we are obviously _not_ fast enough," Avon retorted. "The more speed and armaments I have behind me when facing the Federation, the happier I shall be."

      "I'd like to go over a list of possible planets to try to bring over to our side," Avalon cut in, activating her screen and calling up a list of worlds. "Take a look at this, Blake. I think I agree with Witt that Eridani Major would be a good starting point. It's got a central location." She touched a button and called up a star chart. "You see, if we begin there, we can move on to Argentum, and then Tapperi, and then on to the rest of the eighth sector. It gives us a good starting point, I think you'd agree. Del Grant, whom you already know, is on Eridani Major now, and he's worked with Witt before, last year."

      "It sounds reasonable." Blake was beginning to sound eager. But Cally looked at Avon quickly when Del Grant was mentioned, and she knew that Avon could not help but think of Anna Grant, whom he had killed in the cellar of Servalan's palace back on Earth when she had been found to be a former Federation agent who had been 'running' Avon. Though Anna claimed that she had loved him and had let him go, Cally knew that in Avon's place she would have done the same thing. Del Grant was Anna's brother, and there had been bad blood between them from the time of Anna's supposed death. Though Avon and Grant had resolved their differences on the planet Albion, Cally feared that when Grant found out the real truth, he would hold it against Avon. Avon must have thought so too, or perhaps he was just remembering Anna, for his face had gone rigid and his eyes were seeing something not in the room.

      Cally couldn't recall if Blake knew the truth about Anna or not. Had there even been time to tell him? Had he learned of it from Jabberwocky in the link or from Avon the first time they had had linked up together? Blake would know better than to mention it, but he looked sharply at Avon now before turning back to the map and falling into a discussion of strategy with Avalon.

      In the end, it was decided that Witt's suggestion had merit and that he would accompany them to Eridani Major. From there, they would continue through a series of planets decided by Avalon and Blake in concert and then they would leave Witt on Eridani Major and pick up Del Grant to accompany them to the next world. Avon looked remarkably unenthusiastic, and Cally wondered if it were simply because it was Grant who would accompany them or if Avon would have objected to any stranger aboard _Jabberwocky_. Though he would not link with the ship, he was remarkably possessive about it in other ways. She knew better than to ask, though.

      Once that had been settled, the subject of Dr. Plaxton came up again, and Cally felt a sudden sickness in her stomach; Dr. Plaxton had come aboard the _Scorpio_ in her dream and had died because of it. Avon, who had had no other choice but to give the order that led to Dr. Plaxton's death, had reacted to it with the seeds of madness. Cally shivered inwardly as she remembered Dayna's accusative, "What about Dr. Plaxton?" and Avon's reply. "Who?" But surely the others should have known that dying nobly with Dr. Plaxton would have accomplished nothing, and expecting Avon to show remorse for something like that was an exercise in futility. That did not mean he would not have felt it, though, and it was one of the nastier elements of her dream. Avon had a knack for saying the truth as unpleasantly as possible, and it often caused people to misunderstand him. She was fairly certain that she had not misunderstood him though. Avon was indeed capable of remorse. He had told her once that regret was part of being alive, but she should keep it a small part. The others weren't that generous minded that they should be offended by Avon's cold-blooded pragmatism, but sometimes they were anyway. Now that Blake was back, maybe he could bring out Avon's better side, which he had occasionally managed on _Liberator_.

      "I'll send for Dr. Plaxton, shall I?" Avalon asked, and pushed a button. Cally waited uneasily, and she saw Blake shoot her a reassuring look. //It's all right, Cally,// came the joined minds of Blake/Jabberwocky, and Cally felt reassured. For the greatest blessing she had been given when she had turned Jabberwocky over to Blake was the ship's ability to boost communication sub-vocally between various members of the crew. It was not quite the same thing as being among telepaths but it was the best feeling she had experienced this side of Auron.

      //I am all right, Blake.// She sent back.

      The door slid open then and a tall, dark man came in, juggling a plastex, print-out card and a stack of tapes. "Good morning, all. Sorry to be late."

      "Ralf, come in," Avalon welcomed him. "Blake, this is Dr. Plaxton. He's been dying to crawl about the innards of your ship."

      The _Jabberwocky_ crew members stared at him in blank astonishment. Plaxton was a man? Another divergence from Cally's dream, one that reassured her more than anything else might have done. She could tell that none of the others had expected this development either, and Blake looked obviously relieved. But even more reassuring was the faint smile that Avon gave her before turning to question the doctor. Avon, too, had known her worry; perhaps he had shared it. One night after Blake had begun to recover from his wounds, she and Avon had talked of the events of her dream. He had been somewhat ill at ease during the conversation and events like the alternate Plaxton's death had seemed to disturb him, though he had been careful not to let it show. Cally realized that she had indeed picked up hints of feelings from people through her telepathy, though it had been nothing as well defined as actual conversation. Perhaps it was because of this that she had seemed to understand Avon better than the others; she had known without being told, some of the underlying feelings that he covered with his acerbic wit and cynical comments.

      After a conversation with Plaxton, Blake contacted the ship and asked that someone bring down a teleport bracelet for the doctor, and in a few minutes, Hugh arrived. He grinned at them and passed the bracelet where directed. "That was my first time with the teleport," he announced when Plaxton looked at the bracelet uneasily. "If I survived, so can you."

      "I'm not afraid of new technology," Plaxton replied. "Just a little uneasy. I once worked on the Federation's teleportation project."

      "You too?" Blake asked with a grin. "Avon and I were both on it, but we didn't meet then."

      "I came in at the end," Plaxton explained, "about the time they were having those spectacular failures, right before the funding was cut. Now it looks like they were on the right track." He examined the bracelet with interest, then clipped it on.

      "Avon, why don't you and Cally go up with him," Blake suggested. "I'll stay down here and finalize a few things with Avalon, then I can bring Witt up with me. Have Vila send down a second bracelet."

      "Already done." Hugh produced a second bracelet from his pocket. "We thought you might need more, since Jabberwocky said we'd have a passenger."

      

      Dr. Plaxton was fascinated by both Orac and Jabberwocky and sat for hours on the flight deck discussing stardrives with them. Either out of loyalty to his own crew or because it would not work with strangers, Jabberwocky did not offer to link with the doctor, but he readily compared notes with Plaxton, who went over his tapes and plastex charts with the ship. Orac too found the subject fascinating and studied the doctor's data with great interest. Coming eventually onto the flight deck, Blake found Plaxton there, accompanied by Avon, who seemed intrigued by the conversation, and Vila, who wore the look he always did when he was pretending he knew what was going on but actually didn't. He bounced up now at the sight of Blake.

      "It looks as if we'll be able to run faster, Blake. Just so long as Avon doesn't get the chance to wreck the drive."

      Avon turned his head and favoured Vila with one of his famous black looks, causing Blake to grin at him.

      "You should know about running," Avon told Vila.

      "Will it work, Avon?" Blake asked. He knew he could get the information from Jabberwocky at the slightest hint of wanting it, but Jabberwocky was smart enough not to interfere in normal crew interactions, and he knew enough of Avon to realize that Avon was leery of him at times. Jabberwocky chose, therefore, to refrain from flaunting his skills in front of Avon, even when Blake was involved - or possibly more so when Blake was involved. Blake sent a fond and grateful thought to his link-mate and waited expectantly.

      "It stands every chance of working well," Avon said. "It will take time to implement it, however, and I do not see it completed before we are scheduled to leave for Eridani Major. I would personally prefer not to do the work in transit; it would leave us exposed to great risk, and we have enough of those."

      "Too many," muttered Vila.

      "It would be better to do it when you could shut down," Plaxton agreed. "Jabberwocky is capable of directing the work, as long as Avon is here to implement it and Orac is available to pull in the remaining data. I can set things up for you, and then you can do it between hops for Avalon. Once you get Del Grant on board, he can help you too. Grant's good with computers too, though he's not quite in your league, Avon."

      "I shall tell him you said so," Avon retorted.

      "Is the other man on board?" Vila asked.

      "Just now, Plaxton, Avalon needs you back. Have you done enough to get us going on the project?"

      "We can take it from here, Blake," Avon agreed. "I'll teleport Plaxton back to the surface. We can clear up the loose ends on the way." He left and Plaxton followed him, juggling his stacks of tapes.

      "Anxious to get him off the ship," Vila said to Blake. "Wouldn't admit it, of course, but that part of Cally's dream bothered him."

      "Perhaps all of it did, Vila," Blake agreed. "I don't think any of us are happy about it. I admit I was surprised when I found out Plaxton was a man."

      "I didn't think about it before, but Orac said he was when I was checking out the list of people in the dream for Cally," Vila remembered. "Then when we were in the link, I found out that Cally's Plaxton was a woman, and I just thought Orac was wrong. I should have mentioned it."

      "Wrong!" Orac huffed. "Had you the sense of a normal human being, Vila, you would have realized that I was completely accurate, as usual, and you could have mentioned it, thus preventing future problems."

      "It wouldn't have made any difference," Blake assured Vila.

      "It might," Vila disagreed. "Orac's right."

      "Naturally," the computer put in.

      Hugh came strolling onto the flight deck then. "I've got our passenger stowed away," he announced. "He seems a pleasant enough chap, does Witt. He had a lot of questions, though."

      "Questions?" Vila asked uneasily. "What sort of questions?"

      "Just about our experiences and about Jabberwocky," Hugh reassured him. "Nobody knows anything about a ship like this one. He's bound to be curious."

      "I do not like him," Jabberwocky announced suddenly.

      "What? Why not?" Blake turned to Jabberwocky's display in surprise.

      "He wants me. It's scary."

      "Cally wanted you, you stupid heap of metal," Vila accused him. "That didn't scare you"

      "Neither would you, you Delta-grade," Jabberwocky shot back. "But there's something - I think he never knew that a ship like me could be. Now he does, and he's greedy."

      "So's Tarrant," Blake reminded him. "I have to eject him from the link every time we go through your paces."

      "Tarrant can fly me any time. He makes me feel like I'm still alive and flying a ship of my own instead of _being_ a ship. He might not be ready for me all the time yet, but I know what to expect from Tarrant and it's wonderful. Witt's not a pilot. He wouldn't know how to make me work right. I just don't like him."

      "I don't think I like him either," Vila agreed. "If he's that bad, we don't need him on the ship."

      "There's nothing wrong with him," Blake disagreed. "Avalon trusts him, doesn't she. He's not going to steal you away, is he?"

      "He couldn't," Jabberwocky's voice was haughty. "No one _could_ unless I wanted them to. The only way I could be stolen is by a telepath, and I can't read anything from him at all. Even Hugh has more skill."

      "And I've got next to none." Hugh stretched out comfortably on one of the couches and put his feet up. "I can see how somebody might want Jabberwocky. After all Cally wanted him so much _she_ stole him, and that's not in character at all."

      "No, but she was sick then," Blake reminded him. He sat down in the control position and leaned forward until he was almost nose to grill with Jabberwocky's display. "What's wrong with you?" he asked the ship.

      "I'm getting set in my ways," Jabberwocky announced mournfully. "I'm used to you lot. Maybe I'm like Avon - I don't want strangers on board."

      "Don't tell him that or he'll be insufferable," Vila warned the ship.

      Blake closed his eyes and let himself drift into link-mode without shutting out Vila and Hugh. //Is there anything we can watch for?//

      //No, I'll do it. And I'll make sure Avon does. If we need anybody to be suspicious, we can let it be Avon. He's best at it.//

      //That he is.// Vila came in, easily falling into link-mode since Jabberwocky and Blake were open and permitted it.

      //I hate to see him encouraged though.// And that was Hugh, in his surgeon's helping state.// Don't we want Avon to be _more_ open, not less?//

      //We don't want him to lose his edge entirely,// Blake objected. He was used to Avon the way he was, and while he wished Avon could lower his barriers a little and be more at ease with them, he had got used to Avon this way and he didn't really want his friend to change too much. Linked as they were, Vila and Hugh picked that up, and Vila's delighted laughter sparkled through the link.

      //He'd hate it if he knew what we thought of him//

      // _We_ , Vila?//

      "You know what I mean," Vila replied aloud and went out of the link as fast as he could. Scowling fiercely at Jabberwocky's display and the back of Blake's head, he went over to the dispenser and called for an adrenalin and soma.

      //He can admit to himself that he loves Avon,// Hugh told Blake. //He'd be happier though if the rest of us pretended we hadn't noticed.//

      //Especially Avon?// Blake asked. // I know, Hugh. How I know.//

      //We've all got bad taste then,// Hugh agreed. //But Avon's easier to live with antagonistic. It's one of life's little mysteries.//

      Blake roared with laughter and came out of link-mode, laughing even harder when he saw Vila's concerned and suspicious look.

      Hugh came out after him - interesting that - and said, "Now what, Blake?"

      "Now we practice some more. One of these days, I'm going to get Avon in the link."

      "He isn't ready to admit he trusts us yet."

      "Avon? He doesn't trust us," Vila disagreed, then he shook his head. "And even if he does trust us, he won't tell us about it."

      "Isn't that what I just said, Vila?" Hugh asked him.

      "I don't know. Probably not. Besides, do _we_ trust _him_? He was going to toss me off that shuttle, wasn't he?"

      Blake hid a smile, knowing that Vila's protests were for show because he felt he had given away his concern for Avon in the link and now he was covering up. What a prickly lot we are, Blake thought. But at least we're getting better. And he hoped he wasn't mistaken.

      

      "Link up now," Blake instructed as they ran through another test. Avon frowned but this time he was determined to succeed. It galled him that even Vila could do it when he could not, though he still didn't care for the idea of being that open. He was certain that if he did it properly he could shield himself from the others and block out their reactions and feelings while managing ship functions perfectly. So far, this had not proven successful, but this time, it would work. He knew he was more comfortable with the others than he had been at the beginning and that could make a difference too. Besides, _Jabberwocky_ would be his ship one day, and the more he knew about its functions the better.

[ ](http://s77.photobucket.com/user/hermitlibraryarchivist/media/Jabberwocky%20Part%202%20%20Tarrant_zpsj4jetpo6.jpg.html)

      At the controls, Tarrant went in quickly, the idiotic expression of bliss he wore when joined spread across his face. Cally was in already, secure in the link mode. Vila, at the weaponry position, followed Tarrant into the link. Blake sat at the command module - Avon's proper place, he thought - and directed it all. Avon decided that he looked disgustingly smug.

      //Come in, Avon.// That was Blake, invading his head again, damn the man. But this time Avon wanted to achieve it, so he forced himself to open up enough to allow Jabberwocky to complete the link. He felt himself going into link-mode.

      It had been a combination of tension and bliss when he had joined the others before, in Cally's initial linkage. He had wanted it, but he had been unable to permit himself to yield completely, and he knew there was still a part of him that was not prepared to give way, but he was in now, and though he had distanced himself from the others, he could still feel them around him. His eyes closed involuntarily, and he felt Blake at the center of the link, compelling them all to join him - blast him and his infuriating magnetism; Avon knew that it had drawn him against his wishes all along, even when he was most angry at Blake, and here he was again, spreading his warmth - the man had a vast capacity to give and he proved it in the link, dispensing love as easily as Avon might have dispensed insults. Avon found it uncomfortable and his instinctive reaction was to block it out but instead, he waited, mentally holding Blake at a distance.

      Cautiously he stretched out with his mind in the direction of his controls, and he felt a surge of gladness that he knew came from Jabberwocky as he accepted Avon into the linkage. All at once the controls were accessible with a mere thought; he could control anything without the slightest effort; he could rule this ship and the others with no effort at all.

      //You told me once I should know how it feels to be a god,// Blake's voice came to him, full of tolerant amusement. //I said I didn't like it either. Jabberwocky doesn't work that way, Avon.// Along with the words came Blake's limitless warmth, tempered with a wary respect for Avon's abilities and a genuine concern that went along with his feelings for him. He wanted Avon to join him in the linkage, and Avon was drawn to Blake, and even to the others, but he couldn't allow it. He was not ready. He heaved a vast sigh and pulled back from Blake, and that made him aware of the others in the link as well.

      Tarrant was happy, with a basic simple happiness that accompanied his love of flying. Aware of Avon in the link, he was so content with what he was doing that he was willing to share his feelings even with Avon. Terminal was washed out, the memory no longer a barrier between them. Avon felt resentment at the simple acceptance he had neither asked for nor wanted, but he felt curiously drawn to the warmth Tarrant was projecting. And anything like that could be dangerous.

      //No, Avon, it's not dangerous.// That was Vila - now even _Vila_ was reading his thoughts and invading his mind.

      //Avon.// Cally's familiar telepathy was almost a relief. Instinctively he reached out toward her; she had never threatened him with her powers, had never invaded his mind, though he wondered if she could have done. Instead of trying to convince him now, she merely projected warmth and security, and he knew that if he chose, she would try to teach him how to block the others out. He was safe with her, safe with Cally. She already knew more of him than he might have wished, and she had never used it against him. As much as Avon found it possible to admit trust, he trusted Cally.

      But Blake drew him too, with his exuberance and fierce drive, compelling others to follow him against their better judgment. Though he resented the pull that Blake exerted on him, he could not deny it existed. But while it was acceptable to admit it to himself, admitting it to Blake and the others was not acceptable, and with a pang of regret that he tried to not acknowledge, he pulled free of the link.

      Blake followed him out of it, and his eyes were blazing in a way that alarmed Avon. Just how much had he given away in there? But when Blake spoke up, it was not about that. "You see, Avon," he crowed triumphantly. "You _can_ do it. I knew you could."

      "Not with any remarkable success," Avon conceded. "I thought it was supposed to be a test of the ship, not a mind-reading session."

      "It wasn't," Jabberwocky assured him. "Nobody read your mind, Avon. We wouldn't."

      "Why don't I believe that?"

      "It's true." Tarrant opened his eyes and shook himself back to the here-and-now, massaging his temples. "Do you imagine any of us would _want_ to read your mind, Avon?"

      "Tarrant's right," Vila agreed. He glanced over at Hugh, who had been sitting at the front of the flight deck monitoring the test. "Any chance of an adrenalin and soma, Hugh?"

      "I think that's the only reason you ever test with us, Vila," Blake told him, grinning. "So you can get your drink afterwards."

      "Is that kind?" Vila shot back. "I'm working hard, Blake, willing to risk myself in your experiments, and all I get is criticism." He turned to Avon. "Besides, Avon wants some too, don't you, Avon?"

      "If you honestly imagine I-" Avon began, then fell silent as he realized how much his head ached.

      Vila howled with laughter. "See, Avon. You do want it. The link's hard work at first."

      "How would _you_ recognize hard work?"

      "Easy. I've watched the rest of you every time you did it." He grinned engagingly. "And nobody read your mind either. I've better things to do with my mind than chase after yours."

      "He's right, Avon," Jabberwocky put in. " _You_ control what we see during actual work. This is a safer link than the one Cally did for us all before she turned me over to Blake. This one is more your style. Look at it this way. When we're in a fight, we won't have time to be peeping-toms. But we'll do better in that fight if it's instinctive. You did it with Cally before."

      "Cally is a trained telepath."

      "It'll get easier," Blake said optimistically. "If you could do it once, Avon, you can do it again. But not now. We're still not ready for a fullfledged test run. Where's Witt, does anybody know?"

      "Soolin and Dayna were giving him a tour of the ship," Vila explained.

      Tarrant rose hastily. "I'd better go along and help," he announced and left the flight deck before Hugh could offer him his glass of adrenalin and soma. Avon watched him go, then he took the glass that Hugh had held out and drained it, ignoring Vila's glee.

      "Next time," Blake told him in a low voice. "We'll do it properly next time Avon."

      

      Witt smiled to himself as he returned to his own cabin following the tour. This was going to be far easier than he had expected. Accepted as one of Avalon's people, he had almost free rein on _Jabberwocky_. The ship was standoffish and did not respond to some of his questions, but he put on an insouciant front and maintained his calm. Even if the ship was programmed to be wary of strangers, most of the crew were friendly. That made it easier for him to get around, to learn what he needed. Avon was suspicious of him, but that seemed to be Avon's nature, and when Avon snapped at him, one of the others would be likely to say, "Come on Avon, give the man a break," and even if Avon didn't really unbend, he would ease up a little. Witt knew that Avon was going to be one of his major threats. A decidedly suspicious nature, coupled with a possessiveness towards the ship caused Avon to watch his passenger. Possibly Avon had instructed the ship to refuse to give him direct answers.

      Blake was an affable sort, or at least that was the surface image he projected, though he wasn't very willing to discuss his mental link with the ship. Witt realized after a day or so that it wasn't because he was a stranger, it was because Blake was fairly new at this, and was not comfortable with discussing it at all. He would discuss it theoretically with great fascination. Usually, though, with Blake, the conversation would work around to his plans to overthrow the Federation and Witt discovered that he could respect Blake's drive and ambition even while he schemed to defeat him. That he would have welcomed someone like Blake as an ally did nothing to alter his plans to sever Blake's tie with the computer/ship as soon as it could be managed. Liking Blake would not stop him from acting as he felt necessary to defeat the rebels and remain in Servalan's good graces. Minor details such as that could never be allowed to matter, and Witt never regretted necessity.

      Cally was the most serious threat he faced, even more so than Avon because Cally was a telepath herself. Though Cally was recovering from a serious injury and struggling to adjust to the separation from Jabberwocky, she was still a skilled telepath, an Auron telepath, which made her different from those he had encountered in the Federation's program to develop the wild talents discovered among Federation citizenry, often completely against said citizens' wishes. Cally would have had a different type of training, always surrounded by telepaths, developing her skills in constant interactions which would have become as natural to her as breathing. Witt had learned at a very early age to mask his skills, which had served him in good stead in hiding his abilities, even from his instructors. But though telepathy was natural to him too, and he used it whenever he wanted to, with positive results, he sometimes wondered if he could hope to compete with an Auron. He had shielded the whole time he had been there, and Cally had given no sign that she had recognized him as a fellow telepath. Neither had Jabberwocky.

      But he still feared that Cally's intervention could destroy his carefully laid plans, so he began to think of ways to keep Cally distracted when he began his takeover. Blake sometimes took the solitary watch in the middle of the night, not every night, but every other one, and used it to work with Jabberwocky, developing the skills imparted by the mindship. Pretending insomnia, Witt would appear on the flight deck and strike before Blake had time to know what was intended. But it would take several minutes to complete the link after ousting Blake, and he needed to be certain that Cally was occupied somewhere else, and sleep was not enough of a certainty to risk it.

      So he settled down to watch Cally, to discover if she had any liaisons with anyone in the crew. He didn't find any evidence of it, but he thought he detected an attraction between her and Avon. Very interesting. If he was extremely cautious, he might be able to give a promising romance a discreet push. Occupied with each other, Avon and Cally would not be instantly available even if Jabberwocky had time to give a warning. As for the others, they could be dangerous, but even though Tarrant was reckless and willing to rush headlong into danger, and Soolin and Dayna were both very good with guns, he did not rate them as serious a threat as either Cally or Avon. Vila he dismissed as negligible, and he discounted Hugh simply because of his lack of experience.

      It took several hours of patient work to initiate his plan. Working to influence a telepath was a difficult task, and one that could not be hurried. If Cally had the slightest inkling that she was being pushed into something, she would realize that there was someone on board capable of influencing her - and that would have to be another telepath. He considered pretending to be Jabberwocky and doing it openly, but that was far too dangerous, so instead, he set to work with a drift of thought here and there, pointing out how lonely it must be for her without another of her people, now that the link was broken. He reminded her that the company of others would help her, that the others had rallied around her after her injury, that the physical contact they had offered had been, if not as rewarding as actual telepathy, at least a means to get by. Only by moving slowly and carefully by letting such ideas trickle into her head naturally, could he ever hope to make her think that the ideas he was causing were her own.

      He discovered that in some ways Cally _was_ drawn to Avon, that she had repressed such feelings, not because she prided herself upon restraint but because of her Auron background which was different than that of humans, who had very different ideas about sex. There had been a woman in Avon's life too, Witt discovered from his careful probing; her name had been Anna, and Avon had been forced to kill her. But Avon had told her in front of Cally that there had been no one else, and even if Cally had designs upon Avon, learning that Avon had never considered her in that way would be bound to put her off. Besides, in such a small crew, pairing up might lead to problems.

      Witt grinned to himself as he gently insinuated the thought that it might be good for both of them to share some warmth. Avon was alone, blatantly so, almost as if he defied the cosmos to touch him, and Witt subtly reminded Cally that it was not good for him to hold himself so aloof. He reminded her of Avon's physical attributes too, though Cally was less inclined to decide to seek out Avon for such reasons as she might for the 'bonding' that could occur.

      Having worked at priming Cally, Witt went to work on Avon, an even more difficult task because Avon either avoided him altogether or watched him suspiciously, and it was not often that they were in a room together when Avon was not keeping an eye on him, expecting trouble. Avon wasn't a telepath as far as Witt could see. It took only a little careful probing to open up a tiny breach, just big enough to make a few suggestions. Avon was a lonely man, Witt realised, holding himself aloof - perhaps the experience with Anna had soured him or made him less willing to chance another relationship - but Witt was surprised to discover that Avon did have strong feelings not only for Cally, but for Blake as well, and even some of the others. Ignoring Avon's ambiguous feelings for Blake, and for Vila, Witt went to work on him, suggesting that perhaps Cally could be trusted and that a liaison with her would not be unwelcome. He did not expect Avon to take the first step; he was only clearing the way for Cally to act.

      At first he could not tell if he was getting through or not, but then, toward the end of main watch, he noticed Avon watching Cally with a curiously speculative look in his eyes. Yes, maybe it would work. Tonight. They were getting closer to Eridani Major. It would have to be tonight.

      

      Avon could not sleep. Insomnia troubled him sometimes, so he should not really be surprised, but since Blake had recovered from his injuries and the group of them had linked for the first time, Avon had slept better than he had in years. He had begun to hope that the insomnia had been left behind, but here it was again. Knowing he would not sleep for some time, Avon got up and fetched a poetry book and opened it at random. Though Vila would have laughed had he known, Avon enjoyed poetry, or at least some poetry. Not something ridiculous like 'Jabberwocky', which had given their ship its name, but something that made him think a little. No foolish love poetry, but something thought provoking, something that turned the words into more than their simple meanings. He was lost in something from the old calendar called 'Thanatopsis' when the door signal chimed at him.

      Surprised, Avon glanced at his watch. It was the middle watch, a strange time for someone to come calling, but he keyed the door open anyway.

      Cally stood there wearing an exotic, green robe that she must have somehow acquired on Avalon's base because it would surely not have come with the ship. She looked a little pale and her hair was messed, as if she too had been trying unsuccessfully to sleep. Her eyes were a little too bright and her face was slightly flushed. Avon found her attractive that way, then he wondered if the ship could pick up on that thought and relay it to Cally. Curious. He had been noticing her today, more than he usually permitted himself to do. Perhaps she had seen him do it. Mildly embarrassed that he had given any of his feelings away, he nevertheless set aside the book and looked at her expectantly.

      "Cally?"

      "Avon, may I come in?"

      "Yes. Come in." He wondered if something were wrong with Blake and she had come to discuss it with him alone, but she stepped inside and the door slid shut behind her.

      "Avon," she said frankly, "I would like to stay with you tonight."

      Astonished, he felt the colour rise on his face, and his surprise must have shown, for she said hastily, "Not if you should dislike it, of course, but - "

      "I should have to be a fool to dislike it, Cally," he said. "But why now?"

      "I would not have you think that I am using you, Avon, for it is not that." She remained by the door as if she was prepared to turn and flee. "I confess that since I gave Jabberwocky to Blake I feel very alone, and sometimes it is more difficult than others. It is at such times that I wish to be with someone so I should not be alone and if I must be with someone, I would prefer it to be you."

      Like any man, Avon found that gratifying, but he said, "I might have thought Hugh - You seem close to him."

      "I am, but only as a friend. I could have gone to Hugh, and he would have let me stay, but I do not think I could ever love Hugh, and I think that it would take very little for him to love me. I do not wish to hurt him."

      "But you are willing to hurt me?" he asked stiffly. Her presence here was beginning to disturb him; he found it arousing.

      "Avon, I do not know how you feel about me," she said. "But under the right circumstances, I might be able to love you. If you could not return that love, it would be my choice. I could not go to Hugh and asked him to sleep with me when he could never have more than my body."

      He saw the distinction, and honesty compelled him to say, "Cally, I cannot promise to love you."

      "I do not ask it of you. If you should do so, I would be here for you. If you could not, then the choice would be mine. I am an Auron, Avon, and we view things differently. Though I would prefer to have my feelings returned, of course, I would not feel a physical relationship as important as a human might. Companionship matters to me, and you have given me your companionship already. If you cannot love me, I will take what you can give and be content with that."

      "Well now, that seems a poor exchange, somehow."

      "I do not think you would deliberately hurt me, Avon. I think you do care for me, even if only as a friend."

      "Perhaps more than that," he conceded. "But how much more I am not certain."

      "I realize that your feelings for Blake may be stronger than your feelings for me, and I would never interfere with that, but since I do not believe you plan a physical relationship with Blake - "

      "He would be very surprised if I did," Avon agreed, smiling. He wondered if Cally would take that as an admission of his caring for Blake, and discovered that he did not care if she did. He trusted Cally not to use his feelings against him.

      She approached slowly. "Avon, you will not turn me away?"

      He did not think he had that much strength of will. Perhaps it would be wrong of him to permit such a relationship to begin, but he was only human, and he had been more alone than she had. He had never denied the physical attraction that he felt toward her, though he had never acted upon it before, but now he stretched out his hand to her. "No," he said. "I will not send you away."

      She came to him then, shedding the robe to reveal bare flesh beneath, and he dimmed the light as she climbed into the bed beside him. Drawing her close, he kissed her, pleased at her instant response. His hands roamed over her body and she whispered her pleasure into his mind while she began her own explorations. His breath quickened and he eased her onto her back and moved over her. Joined, their bodies moved together in sudden urgency, and their minds joined too, her telepathy enabling her to speak directly into his mind, their oneness allowing her to receive his thoughts as well. He did not know if he could love her as he had once loved Anna, but she mattered, and when he cried out at his climax, the name he called was "Cally."

      

      Blake was alone on the flight deck when Witt allowed himself entry, grinning engagingly at him. Blake liked the young rebel, and he returned the smile. "Come in and keep me company. I enjoy this watch, because it gives me a chance to be alone with Jabberwocky, but I like company too. Stay awhile and talk to me. I want to know more about Avalon's movement, if you feel you can tell me about it."

      "I don't think Avalon would have any objections, Blake. What would you like to know?" He stretched out comfortably on one of the couches.

      "I'm interested in linking up all the various rebel worlds," Blake said eagerly. "I kept hoping all along to get one planet behind me, and though I did make a start in a few places, there was never anywhere that would have worked out as a base. Often we got started and had to leave again, and I knew that sometimes the Federation would come in and destroy everything we had begun. I was safe on the _Liberator_ , and I knew that people we'd fought beside might soon be dead. I hated that. I felt as though I set them up as targets while I went on, free and unencumbered. Even with _Liberator_ , we could only do so much."

      "You wanted organisation, Blake," Witt pointed out. "And that can happen now. This new pacification program is the way the Federation is trying to compensate for the loss of so much of the fleet in the battle with the Andromedans. We might have made more strides after that, but we were in that battle too, and Avalon was badly hurt. If she'd been well she could have taken over, or if you hadn't been injured and stranded on a remote planet, you could have done something. The other rebel factions didn't have anyone strong enough to coordinate everything and so they fell into their squabbling little groups and the time was lost. I don't think we're too late now. I just wish I knew more about that dream of Cally's. She envisioned the pacification program and the Pylene 50. They had an antidote to it in the dream; if she could remember it, it might prove the solution."

      Blake had never thought of that, and it was exciting, certainly possible. He would have to talk to Cally, to see if she remembered enough about the formula to make it worth a try. Orac and Jabberwocky could help too.

      //Yes, Blake, we could help,// the ship told him. //That would give us a lot more chance of defeating the Federation than we had before.//

      "Hugh could help too," Blake decided. "He kept the suppressant program from working for almost a year on Dayson Prime."

      "We heard about that," Witt agreed. "But we didn't know if he was working for us or if he was just inept. We left him alone because he was doing what needed to be done; the local rebels there contacted Avalon and she suggested they wait and see. It's a good thing your people got him out when they did, though, Blake, because what I know of the Federation is enough to make me think they would have been onto him soon."

      "Probably." It was good to be able to talk with one of Avalon's people, Blake decided. That was one of the things that had been lacking before, good communications. He'd see that it didn't happen again, and if he didn't, the others would insist.

      Witt got up and strolled over to the control position, where Blake was sitting. "Is this where you link with Jabberwocky?" he asked with interest.

      "I can link anywhere on the ship," Blake replied. He didn't blame Witt for his curiosity; anyone would have been curious. But he still wasn't quite comfortable enough with the situation to discuss it with an outsider, and though Blake liked Witt, he was a passenger rather than one of them.

      "I think Cally made her initial linkage here though," he conceded.

      //I don't like him,// Jabberwocky repeated.

      //He's just curious. He can't hurt you.//

      //I don't like him. And if you had any sense you wouldn't - // His voice dropped off abruptly and the flight deck seemed to sway.

      //Jabberwocky?// Blake could always feel him at the back of his mind, not a conscious awareness but one he would miss if it was gone, and now, suddenly, it was gone, as cleanly as if cut with a laser, and the ship swirled around him as if it were no longer solid. // _Jabberwocky!_ //

      Then everything was gone, the flight deck, the ship, light, sensation, thought. A void came around him and devoured him, non-colour, neither dim nor bright, a nothing place that was full of an emptiness so vast it should have echoed, but there was no sound, not even a heartbeat. Though his eyes were wide open, there was nothing before them; he could not even feel them. Maybe they weren't open, but it wasn't dark. It wasn't light either though. He strained to move, to stand up, to seek help, but he couldn't tell if his muscles responded or not. There was just nothing, a terrible lack of any sensation. He didn't think he was breathing any more. Was this how Cally had felt when deprived of her telepathy? Or was this death? His thought began to run away from him like little invisible spiders, and he became confused, disoriented. Where? No, he...what had happened. Avon! He did not know if he called the name aloud or if he only wanted to. Then he couldn't remember. Avon? What was that? Why. . . He was frightened. Help me, please help...

      And then there was only nothingness, and he was nothing too...

      

      Avon was at peace. He lay, eyes closed, with Cally curled up beside him, half sleeping, and he was glad she had come to him. He knew that perhaps they had both needed this; he had not felt such contentment in years. He realized that there had been a kind of telepathy between them during their lovemaking, and that he had let down his guard with her more than usual, but right now that was unimportant. She would never use it against him. It did not mean that he was going to be more open than was his custom, at least not often, but it meant that at moments like this, he could relax and find peace.

      //Avon,// sent Cally sleepily.

      "Yes, my dear?"

      //Not out loud,// she protested.

      So she _had_ been able to receive from him. He doubted it would work, but he was willing to try it. //Like this?// he asked, not knowing if she would receive him or not.

      //You are almost there,// she told him. //Not quite a telepath, but not mindblind either. Avon, I think that perhaps you _are_ a telepath, or could have been, but you have blocked it away for so long that you have damaged your gift.//

      "I think not," he replied. "I should have known, Cally."

      "No, Avon," she replied. "If you had the gift and it developed very young, you might have learned to block it as a child especially if there were those who were suspicious of it. Would - " she hesitated, then continued cautiously. "Would your parents have frowned on such gifts?"

      He did not answer immediately, the very faintest fragments of a memory came back to him; he would have been very small. "You can't know any such thing," an angry voice crying. "It's not natural. Stop it at once. I want no more of this foolishness." Then blows, and in the background, his mother crying. Why had he blocked this out? He knew the answer though, knew it well. Shaking a little, he remembered more, his mother weeping and more blows, this time directed against her. "You know the boy must stop this nonsense. You know what will happen if he is found out. Never encourage him again. Never." And the small boy that he had been, crying, promised that he would never do it again. "Just don't hurt Mummy, don't hurt me". Avon shuddered, closing his eyes away from the remembered pain, and said icily, "I am no telepath, Cally." Then, as she flinched away from the cold fury in his voice, he pulled her back into his arms and said more quietly, "I'm sorry, Cally. But don't expect that of me. If I could have ever been a telepath, that part of me died a long time ago."

      As if she had read some of the painful memories, her arms came around him and she held him to her heart, one hand stroking his hair. A part of him craved the comfort, comfort for something he had never admitted to himself, not for years, and he permitted her to hold him, but he said flatly, "I can't be a telepath for you, Cally."

      "I didn't mean to recall unpleasant memories for you, Avon. I'm sorry. I would never try to force it. I can begin to guess what it must have been for you, and I will not pry. Even now, some humans fear telepathy."

      "I don't fear yours," he felt compelled to say.

      "I think you do a little, but I am glad you said that." She pillowed her head against his bare shoulder and closed her eyes. "I do love you, Avon," she said aloud, her voice barely above a whisper.

      "I - " he began, though he was not quite sure he could give her that yet. But before he could finish, Cally jerked upright out of his arms and screamed.

      He drew back in astonishment and alarm, shocked and worried. "Cally?"

      Screams tore from her throat, so harsh that they must have hurt her, then she fell, gasping against his chest, and tears dropped onto his skin as she wept. But only for a moment, then she gathered up enough control to speak, though her body trembled against him. By this time he was desperately worried; Cally never reacted like this to anything, and he knew it was not normal.

      "Blake," she gasped. "Avon, help Blake. Flight deck."

      As he threw on his clothes, he heard her sobbing over and over, "Jabberwocky, Jabberwocky."

      He did not like to leave her in this state, but he knew that the crisis on the flight deck was more urgent, and he had no choice. Something was very wrong, and he grabbed up his gun as he went.

      It took him only moments to reach the flight deck, and he burst into the room to find Blake sprawled on the floor at Witt's feet, while the rebel stared with scorn and defiance into Tarrant's gun, which was only inches from his face.

      "Tarrant?" Avon demanded, heading for Blake.

      "He killed him," Tarrant snarled viciously, jamming his gun right up against Witt's nose. "He killed Blake."

      Avon's fingers touched Blake's neck, feeling for a pulse there, and could find nothing. Blake wasn't breathing either, and when Hugh charged in and knelt opposite Blake's body, Avon left him to it and rose to aim his gun at Witt as well. "What have you done to him?" he asked in a voice of ice, for there had been no obvious marks on Blake's body.

      "You can't kill me, Avon," said Witt calmly. "I've stolen your bloody ship away from you and linked with it. If you kill me, you kill it too, and then the rest of you will die with it."

      Tarrant pulled back his gun unwillingly, his face dark with impotent fury, but Avon made no move to copy him. "Do you honestly believe that I would care?" he asked, unconcerned at what his words might give away.

      He should have been gratified to see the sudden fear in Witt's eyes, but it meant nothing to him. Hardly aware of Tarrant and Dayna - where had she come from? - calling for him to wait, he levelled the gun at Witt, and his finger began to tighten on the trigger, when Hugh cried, "No, Avon. He's not dead."

      If you re lying to me -

      "No, Avon. I can save his life, but I'll need your help."

      Avon turned away from Witt so fast that Tarrant almost fumbled keeping him covered, dropping to his knees beside Blake's inert form. Hugh bent over Blake's body, the heels of his hands pressing regularly against Blake's chest. "I think we got here in time to save him," he said. "Do any of you know mouth to mouth resuscitation?"

      "I do," Witt volunteered, undeterred by Tarrant's gun. "Shall I do it for you? My lady Servalan would prefer to keep him alive."

      Hugh ignored him, looking around at the others, and Tarrant passed his gun suddenly to Dayna and bent down. "I do, Hugh. Avon, if you would move?"

      Avon heard him but made no sense of the words, his eyes on Blake's white and empty face. Tarrant finally had to take him under the elbows and lift him away bodily before he realized what was wanted and threw a feeble imitation of his old scornful look at Tarrant before he drew back just far enough to give the pilot room to work.

      Tarrant bent and breathed into Blake's mouth, and Blake's chest rose, then when the air was expelled, he repeated the process. Hugh, busy keeping Blake's heart pumping, raised his eyes to Witt. "If you want him alive, you'll have to let us take him to the medical unit," he retorted furiously. "Otherwise, I can't guarantee his survival."

      "Be my guest," Witt replied. "I'm sure Servalan will wish to question him about the linkage and how it felt when it snapped."

      "Will he be ...sane?" Avon asked tentatively.

      "That's something not even I can tell you," Witt replied. "Interesting speculation, though. Breaking a linkage must be traumatic. I'd hate to lose it now I've felt it, and I'm a gifted telepath and know what I'm about. Blake was blundering around like a bloody amateur."

      "Telepath?" Dayna asked sceptically. "Then why didn't Cally know what you were?"

      "I blocked her, and then I gave her something to keep her occupied so she wouldn't notice what I was planning."

      "What!" That got Avon's attention and he lifted his eyes from Blake's face to stare at the enemy telepath. " _You_ caused..."

      "Whatever he caused, it can wait," Hugh cut in sharply. "Avon, we'll need a way to carry him."

      "I'll help," came Vila's voice from the doorway. "Avon and Dayna can help too."

      "Dayna must keep him covered," spat out Avon.

      "What good would that do?" Hugh answered sadly. "We can't kill him, at least not now. If we lock him up, Jabberwocky'll have to let him out again, right Jabberwocky?"

      "That's right, Hugh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen, but I'm linked now. I can't help it."

      Vila crept forward, his eyes on Blake, then they flicked to Avon's face and he gulped. "Come on, Avon," he said gently. "We'll get him down to the medical unit."

      The trip was difficult, as Tarrant and Hugh had to maintain their work on the way, but eventually Blake was deposited on the table and Hugh initiated life support. "We're in time," he said as he stepped back. Tarrant retrieved his gun from Dayna and aimed it at Witt, who had followed them, then he tried to get his breathing back under control. Witt ignored the gun.

      "I'm sorry I had to do this," he said with as much regret as he might have used for trampling someone's toe in a lift. "But my allegiance is to Servalan."

      "Your allegiance is to yourself," Avon snarled at him, wishing he could kill the man outright, but knowing that if there was to be any chance for Blake, he could not do it, at least not yet. He then turned to Hugh who was reading the sensors. "Well?"

      "He's alive," Hugh said. "But that's about all I can say for him. The machine breathes for him and regulates his bodily functions. He's non-responsive, but I can maintain him this way almost indefinitely, certainly till we find out how to fix it." He turned to Witt. "I don't suppose you'd like to enlighten me?"

      Avon looked at Hugh in some surprise, never having heard that degree of bitter sarcasm from their amiable doctor before. He had thought Hugh a little too soft, but now he wondered if he had been mistaken.

      "Oh, I'll tell you anything I can," Witt replied good-humouredly.

      Avon had considered himself amoral, but compared to Witt, he was almost as virtuous as Blake. "What did you do to him?" he snapped.

      "I pushed him out of the link and replaced him there," Witt informed him simply. "I had to do it quick and fast while Cally was otherwise occupied so that by the time she realized what was happening, it would be too late for her to intervene. Since she's not here, I would guess that she was traumatized by it too. She'll snap out of it soon, if I know my telepathy and she'll be down here breathing fire. Never mind about her. She'll be all right. Blake is in a state a telepath might understand and know how to cope with but that might be different for an ordinary human. He's new to the link, and he let himself become dependent on it rather than letting it be an equal partnership. A pity. He's trapped inside his head, in a state of sensory deprivation. If he doesn't come of it soon, he'll either be trapped there forever or he will go mad. I can't help you get him out because he would know I was his enemy and he would block me. I'd only drive him deeper in."

      "We wouldn't let you try," Dayna informed him coldly.

      "You will stay completely away from him," Avon seconded.

      He looked at Blake's face; even when he was unconscious after his injury on Gauda Prime, Blake had looked more 'alive' than he did now. At least Avon had been confident that there was still someone inside his body, even if it was shut away for a while. Now it looked as if the essence of Blake had gone somewhere far beyond their reach, if it even existed at all. Annoyed at himself for what seemed a flight of fantasy, Avon realized that it might essentially be the truth.

      "Get him out of my sight," he snapped, and Tarrant and Dayna took Witt by the arms and steered him out of the medical unit. Avon noticed that the telepath went willingly.

      "Where's Cally?" Vila asked uneasily. "Is she all right?"

      "She is in my cabin," Avon replied, frowning at the look of startled comprehension on the thief's face as he realized what Witt had meant when he said he had arranged a distraction for Cally.

      "I had better go along and make sure she's all right then," Vila offered.

      "I am here," said Cally from the doorway. She had resumed the green robe but now it looked too big for her as if she were somehow shrunken. Soolin was with her, supporting her, eyes wary. When she saw Blake, Soolin paled and tightened her grip on Cally.

      Avon made an involuntary movement toward her, then caught himself as he remembered that Witt had engineered their time together with his powers. Cally's eyes were huge and dark and frightened, and when she looked at Blake, she gasped and almost fell.

      Avon was at her side in an instant, catching her up and carrying her to the other bed. "Lie down," he told her, his voice gentle.

      "But Blake..."

      "Blake is alive," Avon reassured her. "But we may not be able to help him."

      "A telepath could help him," Jabberwocky's voice.

      "You stay out of this, you traitor," Vila accused him.

      "No, Vila," Cally protested, propping herself up on one elbow. "Jabberwocky had no choice in the matter. He is loyal to us but unable to act. He would be almost as traumatized as Blake."

      "It doesn't sound that way," Soolin retorted. "He's carrying on just fine, and Blake's shut everything out."

      "I'm linked with Witt," Jabberwocky admitted. "I don't like him, but I'm his link mate and I can't eject him. Even though I dislike him, at least he's someone in the link. If it had been severed and I hadn't been given a replacement, I'd be like Blake is. I wish I could get Blake back, but the link needs mutual consent to be broken."

      "It didn't when you dumped Blake," Vila insisted. "Couldn't you have helped him?"

      "It was either this or letting him kill Blake, Vila. I hate this. I wouldn't hurt Blake for anything, or the rest of you either. But he's just too good. I'm an artificial telepath; when I was still human, I was no more a telepath than Hugh is. For me, it came with the ship. I don't have the skill to fight him. I think the Federation wanted it that way; they wouldn't have wanted something that would leave them no way out. Servalan controls Witt. She planted him with Avalon's people several years ago. Until now, there has been nothing worthy of his skills, but she felt that retrieving me was worth losing the information she might have gained had he been left in place."

      "Do you know any way to get Blake back?" Avon asked.

      "No. If you kill Witt, I could be badly damaged. This is new to me, but he's right - if you kill him, it could mean all of us die. Besides, right now, I don't think that even I could get through to Blake. He'll have to be brought back at least part-way before I could step in, and I'd still have to figure out how to dump Witt first. I don't like him. He's got no honour at all. He's funny and he fools people. They don't realize he's cold to the core. I didn't trust him, but I didn't know he could be like this."

      "Does he know we're talking?" Hugh asked

      "Yes. He's not worried. I could block him, but it doesn't matter; we can't stop him now." He heaved a very human sigh. "If I blocked him, he'd know something was wrong, and he might hurt you. I don't want that to happen. He's using that threat against me, and I don't want anything to happen to any of you. Are _you_ all right, my Cally?"

      "I don't know." She shivered, but she was gradually pulling herself together. She looked over at Blake. "I do not think I am strong enough to reach him now."

      "Then you must rest," Avon told her. "We'll have another thirty hours before we reach Eridani Major. Do you think you could try to reach him before then?"

      "I will try, Avon. But it will be very difficult. I know Blake well, but I have seldom linked with him, just in the presence of the rest of you. I do not know if I can reach him, and even if I do, I do not know if he would come back for me.

      "You're our only telepath, Cally," Hugh told her. "You may be our only chance to save Blake."

      "And then what?" she asked bitterly. "Then we will be turned over to Servalan."

      "No," Avon replied. "I will not permit her to take us." He turned to Blake and looked down at the lax face. "Blake?" he said in a tentative voice. "Blake can you hear me?"

      "He will not be able to hear you, Avon," Jabberwocky told him sadly. "He is too deep inside his void."

      "What is the void like?" Avon asked, curious in spite of himself.

      Cally was the one to answer him. "It is like nothingness," she said flatly, all emotion drained away from her. She seemed suddenly only a shell of herself, the warm, compassionate woman he had held in his arms an hour ago faded to this frightened husk. Avon would have taken great pleasure in wrapping his fingers around Witt's throat and squeezing the life from the man with his bare hands.

      Tarrant and Dayna came back then. "We locked him in one of the cells on the hangar deck," Tarrant explained. "Jabberwocky will let him out if he asks him to, though. I don't think he'd have a choice."

      "I wouldn't," Jabberwocky replied. "But he hasn't asked to be let out yet."

      "What's he doing now?" Vila asked suspiciously.

      "He's sleeping."

      "Then how about you pop some poison gas into the cell and link with Cally while's he's out of it?" the thief suggested.

      "I wish I could, Vila," Jabberwocky said regretfully, "I really do. But I can't. I was designed to protect the life of my link-partner and I don't have any choice about it."

      "Even when he almost killed your last partner?" Soolin asked disbelievingly.

      "I hate him for what he did to Blake," confessed Jabberwocky. "But I can't kill him. It's against my programming. I'd try to do it anyway if I thought it would help Blake, but it won't. It would only burn me out and the ship with it, and that won't help anybody. I'm not afraid to die, but I won't suicide if it means I'd take the rest of you with me."

      "No, Jabberwocky, you must not kill yourself," Cally told him. "We'll find another way. I have an idea."

      "Then I'll shut off, and you can talk about it without me," Jabberwocky offered. "If I knew, I'd have to answer his questions, and it's better I don't." His display panel went blank.

      "Ideas," scoffed Avon. "What sort of ideas? New hope for the dead?"

      "One of us must go into Blake's mind and bring him out," she said. "It is the only solution."

      "One of us? You are the only telepath among us. I will not permit Witt near Blake."

      Cally raised her head and met his eyes. "Avon, I do not believe I am the only telepath here."

      "You are the only one I know of." He stiffened. No matter what she said about his former potential, if indeed that was what his traumatic memories meant, he had long ago surrendered his gifts and could no longer use them. He knew he could not help Blake that way.

      "You don't mean _Avon's_ a telepath?" Vila exclaimed, eyes wide.

      "She has a foolish and mistaken notion that I might once have been," Avon surprised himself by replying. He looked down at Blake again, and avoided Cally's eyes.

      "I don't think it would work anyway," Hugh put in. "Even if Avon could have been a telepath once, he isn't now or Jabberwocky would have picked it up in the link. You might as well say Tarrant's one because he always knows who's in the link when he comes in."

      "I what!" Tarrant asked. "Oh no, I'm no telepath."

      "But you always do check and identify us as soon as you come in, Tarrant," Cally informed him. "I have remarked on this to Jabberwocky. I believe many humans have the potential for some telepathy, but in small degrees, and those who have more talent often suppress it in childhood. But telepathy needs to be used, and none of you have done so. However, Blake needs us now. I am not yet strong enough to try to go in to him. The disruption weakened me, and I will need to rest. I will try as soon as I have slept; it will be a difficult and exhausting process. I suggest we try to reach Blake in the mean time by more conventional means."

      "Medically there's nothing I can do," Hugh pointed out, checking the sensor readings one more time. "He hasn't changed since we brought him here."

      "Then what kind of conventional means, Cally?" Vila asked. "I don't like this."

      "You don't _like_ this? Avon echoed. "Vila, you are a fool."

      "At least I wasn't off somewhere being manipulated when it happened."

      Avon took an angry step toward Vila, who backed away, ducking behind Tarrant. "All right, I didn't mean it, but we're in trouble, Avon, and Servalan's waiting to snatch us. There's got to be something we can _do_!" he wailed.

      "We must take turns sitting and talking to him," Cally said.

      " _That_ should be a vast help," Avon replied scornfully.

      She winced. "I'm sorry, Avon. But we must not let him go in too deeply, or he will never come back."

      "In where? Where is he?"

      "I told you before, it is like nothingness. He is trapped inside his being, all sensation blocked out. Sensory deprivation can drive a man insane. If he has any awareness, he will grow steadily worse until he is mad. I do not know if anything can reach him short of telepathy, but if we do not try, then certainly nothing will."

      "Very well," he conceded. "We will do that, for now. If nothing has happened by the time you have slept, you will attempt to go after him and bring him out."

      "That sounds dangerous," objected Tarrant. "Could you get sucked in there with him, Cally?"

      "It is possible, Tarrant," she conceded. "But it need not happen. I will try to bring Blake back after I have slept. I think that Avon should talk to him first."

      "And say what?" asked Avon, feeling helpless and hating the feeling.

      "That must be between you and Blake."

      

      Cally was sleeping. Avon looked over at her still form, remembering their lovemaking, and a great anger filled him. Witt had used them both, forcing them into something that neither of them had intended or wanted. No, he corrected himself suddenly. He could not say he had not wanted Cally, because he knew he had wanted her long before Witt had come on board. Their conversation had seemed natural to him, not forced, with both of them acting according to their natures without manipulation. But he could only answer for himself. Perhaps she would never have come to him if Witt had not forced her into it. She had claimed she might love him, had told him as much, and he found how much he valued that, but Witt had learned enough of both of them to understand how best to use them for his purposes and he had gambled that it would work. Avon had lowered his guard to Cally, who had not been acting of her own volition. Though Cally had never intended it as such, Witt had forced her into yet another betrayal. Avon felt cold and angry and hurt. He _wanted_ to believe Cally, but it would be difficult to ask her now if she did love him, especially since he could not promise her as much in return. Anna was too fresh in his mind, and if he did indeed love Cally - and he thought perhaps he did - he could not yet tell her so.

      And while Avon and Cally were being tricked into opening up to each other, Witt had taken the ship and all but killed Blake. Avon turned from Cally's sleeping form to Blake's unconscious one. Was he unconscious, or was he really dead, his life prolonged by mechanical means? Hugh had insisted he was alive, but was he really? Hugh had pointed out brain activity on the monitor, but it was not normal brain activity. Something was going on in there, and it was enough to give Hugh hope. It was not enough for Avon.

      "Damn you, Blake," he accused him. "I should have known you would mismanage the whole business. Look what you've done to us. To me." He shivered. It was not his nature to be this frank with Blake, not even in the link. Cally was not listening, but even if she were, he need not fear her. Witt would no longer need to manipulate her, and even if he did, he would have no use for Avon's ramblings to Blake.

      Avon looked at Blake's face, and leaned forward to lift an eyelid. Blake's eye was unfocused though it did react to the light. It was only an involuntary reaction, though, and Avon took no hope from it.

      Blake. Avon had fought him and argued with him and complained about him - had even shot him, though that was a mistake - but he had sought him when Blake was gone and he had been glad to find him, though it would have been hard to tell him so. Perhaps he could tell him now, and something so unusual might even break through.

      "I searched half the galaxy for you, Blake," Avon told him. It occurred to him that Blake might respond to physical stimuli, so he reached out and grasped the lax fingers in his own, clasping them tightly. They lay limp in his hand, cold and still, and Avon had to struggle with himself to keep from dropping Blake's hand and backing away. Sentiment was weakness, but this had a practical purpose, and he forced himself to stay.

      "I risked my life and the lives of the others to find you," he continued. "They thought me a fool, and perhaps they were right, but I tried. When I finally did find you, you made me shoot you, though I knew better. Damn you, Blake, you've put me through hell again and again. I didn't accept it then and I will not accept it now."

      That's fine, he told himself ironically. Threaten him back to consciousness. That should really make him want to live.

      But admissions of sentiment were not his nature. They would probably never work. Cally had not really believed that any of them could get through to Blake this way. At best, it might keep him from sinking deeper, but Avon was not sure he believed that. He wanted to believe it, though. Stupid. Wishing for something was an exercise in futility. It would never work. Besides, why should Blake come back for him? What guarantees did he have that Blake gave a damn for any of them? Then he shook his head with a wry smile. Blake did care. The man was a compassionate fool, but he would risk his life for any of them without hesitation."

      Just as Avon had risked his own life for Blake?

      He tried to shove that thought away, to make excuses for himself. He heard some of the excuses he had made through the years. "Instinctive reaction. I'm as surprised about it as you are." Would Blake have been fool enough to believe that? But Blake had know better because he had reciprocated; he had given the Auronar the power cells at the sight of Avon's pain, though he had to have known that Avon would have endured it and gone along with Blake's plan. Blake had known.

      Blake had always known.

      Avon shook his head, wondering why he had permitted Blake to get to him like this. They had been drawn together through by a force greater than any Avon had encountered before. Avon had held himself aloof from it, knowing that what he felt for Blake was, in its own way, stronger than what he had felt for Anna; he had trusted Anna, knowing that he shouldn't, but he had resisted trusting Blake while knowing he could.

      "You're going to come back," he said. "Cally will come in and bring you out as soon as she is rested. We won't leave you alone in there. I promise you that, Blake. I will not permit it. We went through too much to lose you now." He added softly, "I won't lose you now."

      But the hand in his did not respond and Blake's body seemed as empty as ever. Avon resisted the urge to shout at him and shake him and demand a response.

      He kept on trying. "Blake, this is not easy for me. You matter. You must come back."

      He felt utterly weary; it had been a long time since he had slept, and there had been too many emotional upheavals this day. He glanced over at Cally; her face was serene in sleep, though she had been through a great trauma too. Linked, if not through a bonding at least through telepathy, with Jabberwocky, she had been thrust out as well. He wondered if she knew that Witt had been influencing them to bring them together, and if so, whether she would feel guilt - or regret.

      Or perhaps both.

      Avon talked to Blake for a long time, and when Vila came to relieve him, he did not know whether to be glad or sorry. He released Blake's hand with some difficulty, for his fingers had grown stiff and they hurt as he pried them loose. Ignoring Vila's ill-concealed surprise at the sight of it, he rose to his feet. "There has been no response, Vila. Don't disturb Cally. If she wakes, come and fetch me."

      "Are you and Cally-" Vila began, then he fell silent, looking worried and concerned.

      Too tired to dissemble, Avon shook his head wearily. "I don't know, Vila," he said. "Don't ask her any questions. She will have enough to worry about."

      Vila's eyes met his, and he said simply, "I'm sorry, Avon. I didn't mean - "

      For once, Avon didn't have the energy to fight with Vila. "I know you didn't. Look after him, Vila." And he went out quickly before the thief could reply.

      

      Vila looked after Avon in stunned surprise. Was that really Avon, holding Blake's hand, worrying about Cally, even tolerating _him_. Vila wasn't used to that side of Avon, though he had long known it existed, buried deeply where it couldn't be touched. He wondered if Cally was right that Avon could have been a telepath. If it were true, it might be best for Avon to try to bring Blake out. After all, Avon mattered to Blake, maybe more than the rest of them did. Vila knew that Avon cared about Blake too. But that might not be enough. If Avon really did have telepathic ability, it had been too long buried. It might be rusty. It might not work at all. Blake needed the best chance they had. Vila was afraid it wouldn't work anyway. He'd never seen a live person look as dead as Blake did, and it scared him. Vila eased over closer to the bed and sat down. "Hello, Blake," he said in a small voice. "It's me, Vila." No reaction. Well, he hadn't expected one, but still... Cautiously he reached out and took Blake's hand. If Avon could do it, then so could he. Maybe Blake knew. Hugh said sometimes unconscious people knew that someone was with them. Maybe Blake would know that they were out there talking to him, even if he couldn't show it. Maybe that was the only thing keeping him from going mad.

      He sat and rambled on to Blake, watching him carefully for the slightest change, but there was no change. Jabberwocky interrupted him once, to tell him that he thought it might still be working.

      "I don't know, Vila. I can't touch him at all now. But I know what it's supposed to be like. Even if all you do is make a buzzing sound in the back of his head, it's better than nothing. I've been thinking about a pain stimulus. He might react to that."

      "You mean I should stick him with a pin or something?" Vila asked dubiously.

      "It's an idea. I'll check with Hugh." He went away for a few minutes, then he came back. "All right, Vila. We'll try that. Hugh wants you to keep an eye on the brain scan monitor. Do you know which one that is?"

      "It's the one with the funny, squiggly lines across it," Vila replied, eyeing it doubtfully. He'd seen this monitor before, when Blake had been shot. Compared to the few jiggly lines this time, that one had looked like the crowd on opening day of the Asteroid Races. Vila shivered. He'd been avoiding that line for fear of seeing it fade away and shimmer out of existence. As long as there was some brain activity, he could believe that Blake was really in there and that he might come back to them.

      "That's right, Vila," Jabberwocky agreed. "You keep your eyes on that one. Have you got a pin?"

      "I've got this," Vila replied, holding up a sharp pointed little device, one of his lock-picking tools. "It's sharp, anyway. You're sure about this?"

      "Commence," Jabberwocky instructed.

      Vila poked at the back of Blake's hand with the probe, hardly denting the skin. The scan lines didn't change at all.

      "Harder," urged Jabberwocky.

      "I don't want to hurt him."

      "If it works, it might be the only thing holding him in place," Jabberwocky pointed out.

      So Vila jabbed again, harder; and this time something finally happened. The jagged line danced, shivered, and intensified. For a moment, there was not one line, but two, and they were jiggling for all they were worth.

      "Look at that," cried Vila triumphantly. "He felt it, Jabberwocky. He really did." He added suspiciously, "You won't tell Witt, will you?"

      "No," Jabberwocky replied. "Not unless he asks me. He doesn't really want Blake dead anyway."

      "Oh, come on, Jabberwocky, he wouldn't care if you dropped us out the airlock, one by one."

      "I mean he isn't actively seeking Blake's death," Jabberwocky corrected. "He has no morals, but he doesn't kill for kicks either. He'd just as soon take the easy way out and let Servalan kill all of you. It's strange. I don't understand him, but he likes all of you. He even likes Blake. But that won't stop him from killing Blake if he has to. The thing is, he doesn't have to."

      "How can anybody be like that?" Vila asked, then he shook his head in denial. He'd known far too many people who were just like that.

      Made him appreciate Avon, it did.

      The two lines returned to one, and settled back into its steady, jiggly pattern from before. Vila let out a groan of protest. "Now what, Jabberwocky?"

      "Try it again, Vila."

      "You mean you want me to sit here sticking pins into Blake until Cally wakes up?"

      "If you were trapped in the middle of nothingness, with no stimuli in any form, Vila, I think you'd welcome some minor pain.

      Vila considered it, then he nodded. The wasteland Cally and Jabberwocky, and even Witt, had described, frightened him. If it would help Blake to hurt him a little, then he would have to hurt him. He only hoped Blake wouldn't want to return the favour when he was well again.

      So every five minutes or so, at slightly irregular intervals, Vila would jab Blake with the pin-probe, or he would pinch him, or he would give him a jog. Sometimes it would work and the lines would do their little dance before his eyes, and sometimes there was little to no response. But Vila persisted doggedly, hoping that no one would come in and see the tears that leaked from his eyes as he kept up his efforts. He was afraid, afraid it would not work, afraid that they would get Blake back only to discover that they had saved a madman, afraid that Servalan would kill them all. He looked over at Cally as she slept fiercely and he hoped that maybe she and Avon had found some happiness together. It didn't look like there would be any in the future.

      Poke, prod, pinch. Vila closed his eyes against the tears and worked on, muttering to himself, "Come on, Blake. Come back. You've got to come back, Blake. We need you. Avon needs you, Cally needs you. Don't give up, Blake." Poke, prod, pinch. And to Vila's frightened eyes it looked like the jiggling was getting fainter. He was sure that Blake was dying.

      

      In the void there was no conscious thought, no awareness, only blind emptiness. He thought he sat huddled in an empty place, but he could not prove it for he could not make himself move, or if he did move, he could not feel it. There was only sick, shuddering solitude, and the more of it he endured, the worse it got. He could not remember the names of the people he wanted to help him, not even one of them, but there was an awareness of one; he had a hasty and disconnected image of a cutting voice, a fierce, driving solitude, and with it, a support that didn't seem to match but nevertheless did. Someone important to him, he was sure of that, but his thoughts would not stay connected; they unstrung like pearls and rolled about in little half circles. He thought there might be a voice, a touch, but it was so far away that he could not rouse himself enough to seek it. Avon?

      Was it going away? He struggled to restring the pearls, to call his thoughts together so he could give a sign, but he could do nothing. He could not even tell if he cried.

      It was easier to let go, to drift away in little pieces like the pearls, to let it finish, but he was not ready; somewhere in the man he had once been was a fierce unwillingness to surrender, and he tried to grasp and hold that thought though it skittered across the surface of the grey nothingness as if it had been greased. No. He did not want to yield, he did not want to give up. But there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to stop him from fading away into smoke, from dissolving, becoming a part of the greyness.

      Then there was sensation, so brief and unexpected that he jumped away from it, having almost forgotten what sensation was, then he embraced it gladly. He could hold that until he could think again. Surely he would be able to think again.

      It went away.

      Nooooo. He yearned for it, for anything to break the grey monotony, the mindless nothing.

      It came again, and then again, and he waited for it trying to guess when it would come again. Surely this meant he would be waking, breaking free of the void. As long as there was something to touch, he could wait and hold on. But time had no meaning in the void, and nothing else happened. No rescue, no way out, no Avon. Avon? He tried to think about Avon. Was Avon the cutting voice he seemed to remember? He tried to think of Avon, to call his thoughts back, but they lay scattered around him, invisible, just beyond touch. Avon. He didn't know. He couldn't remember, but sometime, somewhere, there had been Avon. He clung to that and to the pain and struggled to keep it from fading to nothing.

      He did not know how much longer he could hold out.

      

      Tarrant was with Blake when Cally woke, and he turned from treating Blake to a fierce harangue about not letting the others down at the sound of a movement from the other bed. Cally stretched like a cat, then she opened her eyes and looked at Tarrant.

      "How is he?" she asked

      "Not much change. Hugh got the idea of using a minor pain stimulus, and when we try it, something responds, but it's deep inside, nothing that can break through and bring him back." He grimaced. "Maybe it's safer to stay in there, for all we know."

      "Oh, it is, Tarrant," she agreed with him. "Far safer. But we will not leave him there. We need him too much for that."

      "Do we?"

      "You know we do. Don't try to be sarcastic, Tarrant. It does not become you."

      He gave her a deprecating smile, raking his hands through his hair. "Then what _should_ I do, Cally? We'll be Servalan's prisoners soon enough."

      "We have escaped her before," she pointed out. "Things may look bad now, but we are alive and we're together, and she does not have us yet. If we can get Blake back, we stand a better chance. And even if we are to be prisoners, I would not have Blake go before Servalan like this."

      "I know we have to help him," Tarrant agreed. "It's just that I'm feeling helpless, and I hate that feeling." He prodded Blake with a pin again, and Cally exclaimed, "What are you doing?"

      "This is the pain stimulus. Hugh said it was getting through to him. It doesn't work very well, but it does work. Look at the brain scan monitor."

      Cally eyed it, startled, then she smiled a little. "Good. He is not quite as deep as I had feared."

      "Does that mean we can bring him back?" Tarrant was surprised at the note of eagerness in his voice. He still wasn't quite sure what he thought of Blake, and there were times when he resented him for stepping in and taking what Tarrant felt was his rightful place, but there was something compelling about Blake that he recognized even as he resented it. He did not want to lose Blake to this if he could help it.

      "It means that we have a chance. I think we should begin soon."

      "Are you rested enough?"

      "Yes. I am rested enough." She went over to the tap and splashed water onto her face. "We do not have a lot of time to spare. I think Hugh should be here, Tarrant. And would you send for Avon?"

      "Why Avon?"

      "Because I think that Blake might come back easiest for Avon. I do not understand the bond they share, but I do not deny it exists. In spite of all the logical reasons to the contrary, I think they are good friends. It would help Blake."

      "You didn't mean that about Avon being a possible telepath, did you?"

      She looked mildly embarrassed. "I am not certain, Tarrant. I think he could have been, which is not the same thing. But he did transmit to me." Her cheeks reddened slightly, and Tarrant looked at her with interest as he realized just how Witt had manipulated Avon and Cally to get them out of his way.

      He said quickly, "But couldn't it have been caused by the... the physical contact, the way we link better when we're touching?"

      "Perhaps, but there is more to it than that. It will be up to Avon, though. I do not think he is a telepath now; though perhaps he could learn if he were willing to take the necessary risks. If he will take them at all, he will take them for Blake."

      "And not for you? Don't you mind?"

      "Perhaps a little," she said. "But right now, saving Blake is more important. Please summon Avon and Hugh."

      "I've done it, Cally," Jabberwocky announced. He hadn't used telepathy to her since Witt had forced his way into the link, and Cally must be missing it. But there was no time to worry about that now.

      She said, "Hello, my friend. I wish we could find a way to free you from the link with that... that..."

      Tarrant could think of a few choice words to describe Witt, but he kept silent about them. "Yes, Jabberwocky, isn't there any way for you to shove him out of the link?"

      "Not unless he requests it, Del. It needs mutual consent, or a telepath as powerful as Witt. I do not believe Cally could do it; she would be limited by her feelings for me. Avon is not a telepath now, if he even could be, and he couldn't do it either. I would need to make _Witt_ choose to give me up."

      "Could you?" asked Tarrant eagerly.

      "No. I know of no way to persuade him - " He fell silent, and Tarrant asked anxiously, "Well?"

      "No. It is better that I not formulate the idea, Del. Let me consider it. If it will work, I'll find a way to notify one of you."

      Avon burst into the room then as if he had run all the way, but he promptly bestowed upon them a cool look. "Any change?" he asked almost as if it did not matter.

      But Tarrant knew it _did_ matter; it mattered a great deal. It would do him no good to insist that Avon admit it though, so he said mildly, "Blake is slightly responsive to pain stimulus, and Cally says that means we can bring him out."

      "I will attempt to link with him, Avon, going inside his head and trying to locate him there. It could be dangerous, and I never learned Auron healing skills, which are needed now. You could help me, Avon."

      "How?" he asked with evident unease.

      "I would like to link with you first and take you with me. I believe that Blake would respond best to you."

      "I don't believe we could link. We never did it successfully without Jabberwocky."

      She hesitated a moment, then she said, "We did tonight, Avon," in a soft voice.

      Avon looked quite taken aback, but his voice was dry and controlled when he replied, "Well now, I don't feel that would be a practical solution to the problem of Blake."

      Tarrant wished he was somewhere else.

      Cally's eyes twinkled in suppressed amusement, but she continued, "Avon, I think we _can_ link. I even think Jabberwocky would boost us if we asked him to. Witt would not intervene; he said he did not care to kill Blake, and he wants him back too."

      "I will not risk either of us in a link that could include Witt. Jabberwocky will remain outside the link," Avon insisted. "I will attempt it, Cally. I feel certain it must fail."

      "Then it _will_ fail, Avon. You must attempt to be more positive."

      "Must I?"

      "Should I leave, Cally?" Tarrant asked. He felt out of place here and he thought that perhaps he should not be interfering with what needed to be done.

      "Yes," said Avon, but Cally said, "No, Tarrant," quickly, adding, "Avon, we may need each other. We have all been linked several times and we know each other in the link. You are strong within it, Tarrant, and I might need to draw strength from you."

      "A new kind of parlour game?" Avon muttered under his breath, and Tarrant privately agreed with him, but he nodded. "All right."

      Hugh arrived then, trailed by Vila, who made no excuse for his presence. "Are we ready?" the doctor asked.

      "As ready as we can be," Cally replied. "We will need more chairs."

      Vila dragged them up with Hugh's help and Cally sat beside Blake, motioning to Avon to take the place beside her. He complied, his face wary, and when Cally took his hand in hers, he let it stay there. Tarrant wondered if Witt's interference had damaged what he had long considered a promising relationship or if, once Blake was safe, they would work out their difficulties. Neither of them seemed to derive any pleasure from the touch.

      "What about the rest of us?" Vila asked. He looked like he hadn't slept in a month, and his eyes were frightened and red-rimmed as if he had been crying. Tarrant dropped his own eyes. He was becoming too close to these people, even Vila, and he worried about how it would affect them all.

      "Hugh must monitor Blake," Cally instructed. "Hugh, you will need to watch Avon and me as well. If our vital signs begin to drop, you must pull us out of the link."

      "How?" asked Hugh helplessly.

      "Physically separate us from Blake. We will be drawn into his void otherwise."

      "I don't like it," Vila said uneasily.

      "No one has asked you to," Avon snarled.

      Vila couldn't have looked more surprised if the medical scanner had bitten him, and that puzzled Tarrant. Surely that was exactly the kind of remark that Vila _would_ expect from Avon.

      "Avon," said Cally gently, and he make an impatient gesture and said, "What must I do, Cally?" in a more restrained voice.

      "I will do it all, Avon," she said. "You must simply let me guide us."

      Avon looked sceptical, but when Cally closed her eyes and assumed a look of intense concentration, Avon's eyes closed too. Tarrant moved a little closer to Cally, ready if she should need him, and touched her shoulder. He didn't link, but he thought he could if he needed to. How ludicrous it all seemed, somehow. In less than a day, they would be Servalan's prisoners, yet here they sat around Blake's body, practising some esoteric art that just might kill Avon and Cally too. He didn't like it any more than Vila did. But what choice did they have?

      

      Cally felt Avon come reluctantly into a linkage, and knew that if she had not spent all that time working with Jabberwocky, learning how to draw the others into link-mode then this wouldn't have been possible. Avon came grudgingly, not, she realized, because he did not want to help Blake - he did - but because he was still wary of the entire process and because he did not want to believe her when she told him he could be a telepath. However, once he was in, he cooperated completely, deliberately dropping his barriers. She wondered if he would ever let her come near him again, now that he had been forced to let her know him so well.

      She had known he cared for Blake, but even she had not guessed how much; she doubted if Avon had even admitted it to himself. Alone in the link with her, he would do whatever was necessary to bring Blake back. She feared that if they could not bring Blake out of the nothingness that Avon might choose to stay in there with him.

      //No, Cally.// His thought was weary and sad. //Self sacrifice would be futile. We will bring him back.//

      //Yes, Avon.// Her grip on his hand tightened. //Stay with me now, keep in touch with me at all times. We will have control, but what we will find may be frightening. Do not sever the link with me or you could be trapped.//

      She led the way into darkness, questing for something living, something light, some spark of existence to use as a directional beacon, but at first she found nothing. If Avon had not been with her, hard and bright, and open to her, she could have been lost too; it would have been easy. But Avon was there, and he offered her what support he could, giving of himself in ways Cally had not believed possible. He was willing to anchor her, though he did not search himself. Perhaps he did not know how. She tried to direct him, and he responded, seeking in other directions, but they did not find anything that could be Blake. There was nothing at all, only a formless dark void. Avon feared it, and Cally knew that she feared it herself, but this was only the outer shielding of the nothingness she had expected, and she knew it would become worse. In darkness, there can be a spark of light. In the nothingness beyond, even light might not show.

      Something flickered in the darkness ahead of them, immeasurably far away, and Avon stiffened like a hunter finding the scent and pulled her toward it. She wondered if one of the others had tried a pain stimulus to see if it would serve as a guidepost. The light flickered out almost immediately but it had given them a direction.

      The darkness changed so gradually that it was almost imperceptible, and all at once, they were someplace where nothing was visible, not even the absence of light. Cally shuddered, no longer aware of the grip of Avon's hand, though she knew that neither of them would let go. Only the touch of their linked minds gave her enough awareness to go on, and she talked to him in the rapid wordless exchanges sometimes possible between telepaths whose abilities are well matched, no longer caring if the practice sessions with Jabberwocky or Avon's own abilities made it possible. This deep in Avon's consciousness, she _knew_ that he had once shown considerable promise that way, but it had been sternly suppressed by his father, with physical violence. Horrified, she tried to offer comfort, and in this close linkage, he was able to accept it. In return he offered comfort on the loss of her people, and she knew how well he understood such complete isolation. She and Blake and the others were the closest Avon had allowed anyone to come to him in years, other than Anna Grant, and Anna had failed him. Cally vowed that none of the rest of them would let him down, not with things that mattered, and in the warm companionship they shared, he was not as sceptical as he would no doubt be when they were back in their own bodies again.

      The nothingness stretched around them limitlessly, no borders, no paths, nothing to follow. Then there was another burst of brightness, closer now, but flickering so feebly that she feared they might be too late. Towing Avon with her, she surged to that direction.

      //Blake!// It was a mental shout at close range, and it startled the tiny ember into sudden brightness. // Help me, Avon,// Cally urged, struggling to link with the essence of Blake.

      But the flame died again, pulling away as it did so, and she realized that he was far enough gone not to recognize her. //It is Cally, Blake,// she projected at him, offering him every reassurance she could think of, expressing her anxiety to bring him back, to help him find the way home, but the essence that had once been Blake shrank away from her, either too frightened to respond or too far gone to be able to formulate the desire. Cally eased up to him and cautiously touched him with her thoughts, light as feathers, warm as a caress, and he resisted her, projecting confused and disoriented thoughts, questions, even accusations. None of them made sense to Cally, but it meant that Blake was almost gone: though his body lived, his essence had come too far without an anchor, and he did not know how to respond; he had lost awareness of the concept of existence, and what they faced was going to be very difficult.

      From Avon came something that she might once have identified as contempt, but now she realized that it was nothing of the sort; he was appalled to see Blake reduced to this, and walls came up to shut it away, but just as quickly they came down again as if he realized that this time his barriers would do irreparable harm. Blake could not fight back this time, and holding him at a distance to keep the pain away would only drive Blake deeper into nonexistence.

      //What must I do, Cally?// She had never heard Avon sound that frightened before, and she ached for both of them.

      //Try to reach him,// she sent quickly. // Tell him who you are. Let him know you've come to bring him home.//

      //Sentiment will not save him,// Avon shot at her.

      //On the contrary, Avon, it is the only thing that _will_ save him.//

      //Then stay back and let me try.// He accepted her words and the burden that went with them, knowing that he might come too far out of his shell now to ever retreat completely again.

      //I will give you strength,// she assured him and withdrew a little, maintaining the link but standing aside, leaving the way open for Avon.

      At first, he did not project actual words at Blake, but merely feelings, reassurances. The dimly flickering entity that was all that was left of Blake did not flare up, but neither did it fade. For a long time, Avon sent a string of soothing thoughts toward it, reminding Blake that there was more to existence than the void. Gradually, so slowly that at first Cally thought she was imagining it, the flame strengthened a little bit, flaring, then sinking back, only to return fractionally stronger. If Avon noticed it, he did not react to it. Maybe he thought that it would scare Blake off.

      But when the flame was steady enough that neither of them could deny that it was real, Avon tried again, this time with a more direct communication. //Blake. Can you hear me, Blake? It's Avon.//

      Blake did not respond for a long time, then the flame shivered and danced as if it had been swept by a strong breeze. //Avon?//

      The faltering response was almost too faint to pick up, but Avon stiffened and went on, his projected words coaxing. //Blake, it's Avon. I'm here with you. Cally is here too. We've come to bring you out.//

      That was too much for Blake to understand yet.

      //Avon?// he tried again. //What... what is... Avon?//

      Obviously taken aback, Avon handled it well. //You will remember, Blake. You are Blake. I am Avon. We are here together. //

      //I... am Blake?//

      //Yes, you are Blake.//

      //I think I remember... being Blake... No! Go away. You'll hurt me.//

      //I won't hurt you, Blake. You are safe with me. I give you my word. You told me once that you had always trusted me. You took my word before. Trust me now.//

      //Avon?//

      //Yes, it's Avon. Don't be afraid, Blake. We will protect you.//

      //...afraid...//

      //I know,// Avon soothed. //Oh, I know. You've been alone. We want to bring you out of there. Will you come with me?//

      //I knew someone named Avon... centuries ago... loved him...//

      Cally felt Avon freeze away from that declaration, as he realized that returning it might be the only way to reach Blake now. But a sputter of amusement burst from him. //You always were a fool,// he sent, but there was affection in the transmission that Cally thought Blake might recognize, even like this.

      //Avon? Where's Avon? Please, it's not fair. Let me go. Don't torment me.//

      //I'm _here_ , Blake. As much a fool as you, perhaps, but I've come in after you. I have often thought our lives were linked in some way, and this proves it. Ask what you will, Blake. I will answer you. //

      //Avon?// It sounded more like Blake now. Cally held her breath waiting. From somewhere, someone - Tarrant? Vila? Hugh? - she found strength and drew it to herself, channelling it through to Avon.

      //Yes, Blake. I'm here. Only you could lead the way into somewhere like this - and only I would be fool enough to follow you there. Correction. Cally is here too, and the others would no doubt have plunged in willy-nilly if there had been a way for them to do so.

      //...sounds like Avon. I remember Avon. You - you're really here?// The thought broke on what might have been a sob.

      //Yes, Blake,// Avon sent patiently. //I am really here. As to why I came, I think perhaps you already know the answer. You always knew me better than I knew myself.//

      //You irritated me, Avon.// Blake was beginning to sound more like himself now, as if he were actually aware of himself as Blake and Avon as Avon. //But there was more. I wanted you beside me. More than any of the others, it was you I needed. You told me when I was wrong. You gave me your support even when you were angriest at me. You wanted to be... free of me.// Blake's essence faded a bit at that thought.

      //Oh, no, Blake,// Avon conceded. //I said I wanted free of you, but I never did. I didn't want to admit that I might never be free of you, that I cared in spite of myself. You knew; I don't know why you wouldn't - you knew everything else. You never let me go, Blake, any more than Anna did. But you - damn you, Blake, I could trust you, but I was too much of a coward to let myself.//

      // I think you did.// Blake's thought came clearly, and Cally smiled a little, for by exposing his feelings to Blake, Avon had drawn Blake further from the nothingness. Now Blake had a responsibility to live up to Avon's expectations, to be worthy of Avon's love. Knowing Blake as she did, Cally didn't think he could pass that up.

      //You're not a coward, Avon,// Blake went on, proving that Cally was right. //I wanted _you_ to stand by me. I want that now. Avon - do you think you can do that for me?//

      //Blackmail, Blake?// Avon's projection had an acid touch to it that made Blake's essence laugh out loud. Cally wondered if the others could sense this change, if they knew that Blake was starting to come back.

      //If you like.// Blake's essence was flame-hot now, and it stretched out toward Avon's cold, hard strength. //Avon, where are we? What happened?//

      //Tell him, Avon,// sent Cally. //He needs to know what happened to him now, to understand why he came in here. Let him know that it was not weakness that drove him here but an attack he could not have prevented or fought.//

      So Avon explained it to Blake, slowly and patiently, reaching out with his own essence when Blake made a keening sound at the realisation that Jabberwocky was lost. //We will get him back Blake,// he insisted. //We _will_ win, but we need you back to do it. Jabberwocky might find a loophole but he'd need somewhere to go, and until you are ready to shed the link he should return to you.//

      //Avon?// Blake's 'voice' shook a little. //Avon, I'll need you in there with me.//

      //As you can see, Blake, I am here now. If I would come into this place for you, then you can expect me to back you in the real world as well. I do not give my loyalty easily. If you choose to stay here, I will wonder if I made the wrong choice.//

      //Avon!// Cally objected.

      But Blake's essence was smiling. //No, Cally, he's right. I will need to come back and prove myself again. I am not ready to yield to Witt or to _anyone_ who comes and takes what is mine. Take me out of here - or better yet, show me the way and I will go on my own.//

      //Look around you, Blake,// Cally suggested smiling. //You are coming out already.// The nothingness had become darkness, and even as they watched it, light came back.

      The medical unit came around Cally so quickly that her body sagged and she almost lost consciousness. She looked at Blake's body, and saw a smiling Hugh freeing him from the life support equipment. He was still unconscious, but at least he looked like he was alive, and his body was stirring.

      She looked at Avon and found him clutching her hand so tightly that it hurt. As if realising it, he freed her and flexed his fingers. Then he trained his eyes on Blake. Involuntarily he smiled as he realized that Blake had survived and was even now coming out of the coma. Avon had detached himself from her mind as well and she felt regret at the separation, for his presence had been comfortable. She was not sure how she felt about Avon now; he had comforted her when she needed it, he had been honest with her and made no promises he could not keep, but she did not know if either of them had been honest with each other in Avon's room. How much of that had been Witt, and how much had been herself and Avon was not yet clear, but that would have to wait. For now, Blake and Jabberwocky, and escaping from Servalan were more important.

      "Well?" Vila asked anxiously. "Did you do it? Is he coming out of it? Will he be all right?"

      "Look for yourself, Vila," Tarrant told him cheerfully, pointing at the monitoring equipment "We've got brain activity again."

      "And Avon did it?" asked Vila. "That's funny. Avon doesn't have brain activity himself."

      "Be very careful, Vila," Avon retorted. "You may have no brain to be active, but you are still annoying, and the airlock is still waiting."

      "Hah!" said Vila, turning his back on Avon, more to cover up his emotions than because he was angry or afraid, Cally realized. "How is he, Hugh?"

      "He's starting to regain consciousness. Everybody out. He won't need a big audience."

      Tarrant led the way to the door, and Cally caught Vila's arm and dragged him with her. "Come Vila," she said. "You can see Blake later."

      "But I want to see him now," Vila objected. Cally pinched him and he let out a startled yelp, but he came with her.

      

      "Blake? Blake, can you hear me?" The voice was far away, but it was familiar, and Blake pulled himself together, listening to it. He remembered Avon; had it really been Avon, calling to him in that vast space where he had been imprisoned, admitting his loyalty? It had not been real, of course, only a dream, what he wanted to hear, but it had helped him.

      He felt in his mind for the linkage with Jabberwocky, but it was gone. It felt as if part of his brain had been torn free, leaving him wounded, crippled. Witt had done it, Avon had told him, but that had not been real. Or had it? Shaking badly, deprived of something he had not known how much he valued, Blake stretched out blindly with his hand, and felt another hand grip it tightly.

      "Stay with him, Avon." That was Hugh's voice in the distance. The medical unit's door swished shut, and the hand tightened its grip.

      "I think you should wake up now, Blake," Avon told him. "After all the trouble I went through to fetch you out of there, you owe me that much."

      Blake's eyes shot up at that, and he looked at Avon, who was sitting beside his bed, watching him with a wryly humorous expression. His eyes were hooded but not entirely shielded, and Blake could read concern there. When Avon realized what Blake could see, his mouth quirked in a half smile but he did not deny Blake's startled speculation.

      "That _was_ you," Blake burst out. "You came in after me."

      "Cally insisted."

      "So I can see." Blake shivered a little, still shaky, still hurting. "Avon, I was lost. I couldn't remember anything except that there was someone called Avon. I couldn't remember more than that. I don't think anyone else could have brought me out."

      "That's what Cally said."

      "How did you do it? You did just what I needed - and you can't do it in the link."

      "And now you'll expect it of me," said Avon wryly. "I should have known it was a mistake."

      " _Was_ it a mistake, Avon?" Blake needed honesty now. He was too alone, too vulnerable, to play word games with Avon, to be held at a distance. He was still too shaken by the violence of Witt's attack to worry about polite lies and safety. He needed reassurance and he was not sure Avon could manage it, even if Avon _had_ risked himself in a telepathic link.

      "No damn you." Avon snapped. "It wasn't a mistake, Blake. You irritate me, but I'd rather be irritated than - "

      "Than?" Blake prompted.

      "Than do without you," Avon replied half angry but with honesty. "I don't know why it is, Blake, but I'd rather not do without you."

      "I understand," Blake said, tightening his grip on Avon's hand. Remembering the void, he gave Avon a shaky smile. "I hope I don't have to inflict that on you again, Avon."

      "Frankly so do I." Avon's tone was warily vulnerable. Suddenly he stood up. "Stay there, and I'll bring Hugh back. There shouldn't be anything wrong with you, Blake. But you're not a telepath, and that kind of attack is something you didn't know how to fight."

      "I'll know next time," Blake replied, his determination growing. With Avon at his side, he could accomplish anything.

      

      "Now what?" Vila asked. They had all gathered in the medical unit, and Jabberwocky had reported that Witt was still sleeping in the cell, though he had awakened long enough to make Jabberwocky open the door, and the ship had been forced to comply. "He could come out of there and do anything to us," Vila wailed. "Blake, d'you think you can get Jabberwocky back?"

      Blake was much better; he was up now and except for a tendency to jump at unexpected noises and a bit more pallor than usual, he was back to normal. But Hugh noticed that he looked round for Avon rather more than he usually did, and that Avon was aware of it, positioning himself where he could be readily available to Blake, more as a sign of his support than anything else, and he stood there, arms folded across his chest, unwilling to yield his position no matter what any of the others thought of him.

      If nothing else, that was a good sign, and Hugh was glad of it.

      Tarrant perched his hip on one of the med tables and looked at Cally. "It would take a telepath to get Jabberwocky back, wouldn't it, Cally?"

      "Yes, and I will not do it."

      "But you must," Dayna cried fiercely. "If you don't, we'll be prisoners in a few hours. The only reason Servalan hasn't sent out a fleet of pursuit ships is because she knows she doesn't have to. Witt hasn't even bothered to leave his cell, though he could whenever he wanted to. They're not even worried. We have no choice, Cally. You'll have to do it."

      "It would be wrong, Dayna, though I would do it if I could. But my training is against me. While I do not care about Witt's survival, I have been trained all my life to harm no one with my telepathy. To invade a link is something that I cannot do, although I will try if all of you feel that I must." She looked first at Blake and then at Avon. "But I believe that I would fail."

      "That leaves you, Avon," Tarrant told him. "If you do have the ability, at least you won't have the qualms of conscience."

      "I would have no qualms whatsoever about killing him," Avon agreed coolly. "But if you imagine an untrained potential telepathic gift would have any effect against someone skilled in its use, then you are a fool."

      "He's right, Tarrant," Blake replied. "I felt Witt's attack, and I don't think someone without a lot of training could ever hope to attack him and win."

      "What about you, then, Blake?" Tarrant pressed. "You know Jabberwocky better than any of us apart from Cally. Can't _you_ get him back?"

      "I wish I could, Tarrant, but I haven't figured out how to do it."

      "I have," Jabberwocky cut in triumphantly. "It wouldn't even be a real attack. I can't actively harm him, but I can passively persuade him from the link. I will do it now."

      "No you will not," said Witt from the doorway. "I didn't mind while you played your telepath games and rescued Blake because it will be necessary to have Blake alive and conscious to confront my lady Servalan. I didn't really want to hurt any of you, and I'm sorry I had to harm you, Blake, but I will defend myself. Jabberwocky, if you try to break the link, you'll be buying more trouble than you can handle."

      "I don't think so, Witt," replied Jabberwocky calmly. "I don't have any loyalty to you, after all. I ask you now, politely, to abandon the link."

      "I politely decline." Witt grinned. "I could get to like you Jabberwocky. It's a great feeling, and think how much better it would be if we were friends."

      "It _is_ much better," Jabberwocky agreed. "I've linked with Cally and with Blake, and I have had temporary links with the others, and I love them all. But I don't like you one bit. You don't care what happens to me. You'd be bored eventually, either that or you'd try to corrupt me, and I won't be corrupted. And if you think Servalan will let you keep me, you're very wrong. She won't. She wants me herself and she's even worse than you are. Are you so egotistical that you can't see she's using you and your love for her?"

      "I don't love her," Witt protested. "I only care about myself. It's the only smart way to be, and if you believe anything else, you're a fool."

      "Well, I don't know. Maybe you can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me while we're linked, and I know you do care for her. More fool you. You could have been a decent sort, Witt, but you don't care about anything, not even yourself, and even if you do care for Servalan, you'd throw her aside in a minute if you thought if would benefit you. It _hurts_ to be linked with you. You're so empty inside. Even when Blake was in the nothingness, he had more than you ever will."

      "That's enough, Jabberwocky," said Witt in a hard and angry voice. "I do have power over you, you know. I can hurt the others if you don't go my way."

      "I've warned you, Witt," said Jabberwocky sadly. "I don't really want to hurt you."

      "Then don't," retorted the telepath, flippantly. "Just don't."

      "I'm sorry," Jabberwocky said and fell silent. Hugh wasn't sure which of them he was apologising to, but the computer had sounded so genuinely regretful that Hugh was afraid that Witt was about to force him to hurt them. Something like that could damage Jabberwocky beyond repair, not to mention what it was bound to do to the rest of them.

      And then Witt threw back his head and howled like a dog. Hugh jumped, and Vila shrank back with a yelp of surprise, while Tarrant raised the gun that had not been far from his hand since the crisis had begun. Avon's eyes flashed from Witt's suddenly tortured face to Blake, who was staring at Witt in startled comprehension.

      "NOOOOO!" shrieked Witt, doubling over, his hands pressed hard against his temples. "Stop it! Stop it! You're killing me!"

      "I wouldn't kill you, Witt. You're my link mate," Jabberwocky's voice was calm yet relentless. "Of course you could decide to free me from the link."

      "Of course," Cally cried as she understood what Jabberwocky intended.

      Hugh stared at her inquisitively. "Cally? What's he doing?"

      "He's stopped filtering out all the extraneous data," Avon said. "The overload can burn out a human brain."

      "Stop it," wailed Witt. "Please stop it. Jabberwocky. _Jaabbberwooocckkyyyy!_ " He collapsed into a little heap on the floor, sobbing, and Dayna turned away in disgust. Soolin watched him a moment longer, then she, too, averted her eyes. Vila had stopped watching long ago, and he crept closer to Cally, genuinely sick at the sight of Jabberwocky's revenge. "Will it kill him?" he asked her in a small voice.

      "No," she replied. "But it could turn him into a mindless vegetable. Too much stimuli at one time can lead to madness as surely as a lack of stimulus would have done to Blake."

      Avon took a step closer and prodded Witt with his foot. "Give it up," he said in a voice that held no pity. "It's not worth dying for."

      "Damn you to hell," Witt muttered, then he sagged and went limp, tears pouring down his face.

      Hugh was shocked to discover that he felt no pity for him either.

      "Yield, Witt," Jabberwocky insisted. "Yield now and I will leave you intact."

      "Noooo."

      "Then I am sorry, but I must continue."

      Witt struggled to sit up, his eyes squeezed shut, his hands pressed against his temples. "Stop it," he cried. "I yield."

      "I'm waiting," Jabberwocky said implacably.

      Witt shook, then he flung his arms away from his head and fell forward onto the floor again sobbing. Jabberwocky said, "It's done. Blake, do you want to come back?"

      "Yes."

      Cally walked over to Witt and bent over him. "Witt?" she asked. When he didn't answer, she tried telepathy, projecting so that the others could hear her too. //Witt?//

      He raised his head then, his eyes huge and guileless.

      //Who are you?// he responded blankly, his telepathy undirected.

      Cally winced. Hugh had felt the strength of the uncontrolled projection; to Cally, it must have been deafening.

      //Where is this place?//

      "He doesn't remember what happened," Cally told them. "I think there might have been some brain damage, or at least memory loss."

      Witt looked up at her and huge tears rolled down his cheeks. He looked dreadfully pathetic. "I'm afraid," he whimpered. "I don't know any of you. What am I doing here?"

      "He'll recover," Jabberwocky announced. "He'll be different though. Maybe better for it. I don't know if he'll remember what happened, and I'm not sorry about that. It was very unpleasant. Blake, let's get back together. Link, please."

      Blake shut his eyes. "Ready."

      Jabberwocky only took a moment to match with Blake's brain patterns and to ease back into the link-mode. Blake's face smoothed out, and he relaxed, the tense wariness sloughing off like dead skin. Beside him, Avon relaxed too.

      "All right," said Blake, straightening his shoulders. "Let's get away from here, Jabberwocky. This is obviously not the best time to go to Eridani Prime. Is there any way to get a message to Del Grant and let him know we'll be delayed?"

      "I'll have Orac handle that, Roj," Jabberwocky said. "And a message to Avalon might be a good idea too. What shall we do with Witt?"

      They all looked down at the weeping figure on the floor at their feet. "I don't know," Blake said. "He seems different now. He couldn't be faking?"

      "He's not faking," Jabberwocky assured him. "Hugh, you'd better check him out."

      

      "Well Blake?" Avon asked some ten hours later. Leaving Jabberwocky and Orac in charge, everyone had retreated to their cabins for some much needed sleep, and now they were gradually trickling back onto the flight deck. Vila, surprisingly, had been first, followed by Blake, who looked much more relaxed and rested, and then Avon strode in, looking better than he had in some time. Fetching himself a cup of coffee from the dispenser, he sat on the couch beside Vila and propped up his feet. "What do you plan to do now?"

      "We still have to go to Eridani Major eventually to pick up Del Grant once Servalan gives up on us and leaves. His cover may have been broken and he might need rescuing."

      Avon's face stiffened. "I have no desire to meet him again," he admitted.

      "We're on the same side, Avon. You'll have to meet him sooner or later, and it might be better sooner and get it done."

      "That's easy for you to say."

      Vila wondered if Blake knew what had ready happened to Anna Grant and he was getting ready to intervene when Blake said, "Avon, I know what happened with Anna. I'm sorry. I know what she meant to you."

      "l doubt that," Avon snapped, then he forced himself to relax. "Leave it, Blake. I might be prepared to follow you, but I am not prepared to discuss this subject."

      "Listen to him, Blake," Vila put in. "He means it."

      "What would you know about it?" Avon demanded.

      "Nothing at all, Avon. Really."

      "See that it stays that way." But Vila didn't feel any malice in Avon's voice. Avon turned to Blake again and went on, "Very well, Blake, we will go to Eridani Major to rescue him. Then what?"

      "Do you want the ship already, Avon?"

      "Not yet. I've seen the hazards of the linkage, and I'd prefer to wait my turn."

      "Shall Tarrant have the link next then?" Blake asked, grinning.

      "That depends on how suicidal you are feeling, Blake."

      Blake's grin broadened. "I see your point. I think Tarrant might handle it well, but maybe not quite yet. Hugh then?"

      "Hugh is tolerable, or he would be if he had more experience."

      "I'll tell him you said that," crowed Vila.

      "He knows already," Blake put in. "We'll leave things as they stand for now, Avon." He smiled at him. "We've all still got a lot to learn. I'll expect you to take your part in the link now."

      "Will you? Brave of you, Blake."

      "Is it? Avon, if you could be a telepath, it might be the best practice for you. You could learn control without always having to be on guard."

      "Better be careful, Blake," Vila retorted from his corner, feeling perfectly safe even though Avon was within range. "He's bad enough already. Think how insufferable he'd turn out if he were a telepath too."

      Blake laughed. "You do have a point, Vila. Very well, we'll leave it to you, Avon. Whatever you decide. I don't suppose it would be easy, would it? I won't push. Cally might, a little, but how you deal with Cally is your own business."

      To Vila's delight, Avon actually blushed, but he did not comment. That was one area that might be difficult for Avon to resolve, mused the thief. Even if Avon and Cally did love each other, and Vila wasn't sure if they did or not, they might not believe it now, knowing Witt had engineered whatever had happened between them.

      Before Blake could comment on Avon's reaction, Vila jumped in. "What about Witt? Hugh says he's not the same man now, and that's good. He'll live and he'll be sane, but he's different. What will we do with him?"

      "Dump him somewhere," Avon retorted.

      Blake considered that. "We'll let Avalon decide," he said. "If Jabberwocky and Hugh feel he's harmless now, maybe her people will take him in."

      "Must you always be a do-gooder, Blake?"

      "l must." Blake smiled. "Don't come on so hard with me, Avon," he continued. "I know better."

      "He's a real softie, is Avon," Vila teased.

      "Would you like to find out?" Avon asked. "There is still Malodar to consider."

      "I'm considering it," retorted Vila. "Presumably in reverse . "

      "Attention," Orac suddenly cut in. "I am picking up Federation pursuit ships at the extreme edge of detector range. Perhaps all this trouble will make you realize which of your computers is most useful to you."

      "Jabberwocky, take us out of range," Blake ordered.

      "On my way," the ship replied. "We'll head back to Avalon and by the time we come back for Grant, we should be able to sneak in and get him out."

      

      Cally was thoughtful as she prepared for bed that night. She knew now that what had happened between herself and Avon was at least partially engineered by Witt, and she felt a trace of regret for that. Avon would hate the thought of being manipulated even if the outcome had been pleasing to him, and Cally was certain it had been. Having brought them together - and out of his way - Witt would probably have left them to their own devices. At least Cally hoped so. Now that she knew the whole story, she questioned her feelings. She knew she cared for Avon and that if she was to have a physical relationship with one of the crew, she would choose it to be Avon. She thought that perhaps she did love Avon; that had not felt wrong. But she was uncertain of Avon's feelings in a different way: Avon loved Blake; she had sensed the depth of his feelings in their linkage and she didn't think he was as drawn to her, though she knew he cared more than he could admit.

      She wondered if she should go to Avon and discuss it with him but she was reluctant to do so. Avon might choose to pretend that the whole thing had never happened, and she would allow him to do so if that was his wish, though she would regret it. It was not that she did not feel she had some rights too, but they had to go on working together every day on a ship with a limited crew, it could prove awkward for both of them.

      With a reluctant sigh, she decided to do nothing. That might be best.

      The door chimed then, and she went and opened it.

      Avon stood there, looking at her, his face unreadable. "May I speak to you, Cally?"

      "Come in." She stood back to permit him entry. "Avon, if it is about what Witt caused between us..."

      "Yes, Cally, it is about that." He looked stiff and uncomfortable and she knew he had come to tell her he regretted it and would not let it happen again.

      "I'm sorry, Avon," she said quietly. "l know you cannot forgive Witt for what he did."

      "No," he agreed. "I can't. I don't like being manipulated, Cally, and I resent it."

      "I thought you might. I'm sorry too. It isn't that I would not have chosen you, Avon, just perhaps not then."

      "I don't like the thought of anyone interfering with my mind," he confessed. "Perhaps that is a part of my upbringing. If you are right, that I could have been a telepath, then the ability was driven from me, and I'm not sure I could bring it back. I can't promise to be a telepath for you, Cally."

      "I would never ask it of you. It might be good for you, but it must be your choice."

      "Perhaps someday I might be able to reconsider. But not now."

      "I understand, Avon. We needn't talk about what happened between us."

      "I think we do need to," he objected, stepping closer to her and resting his hands on her shoulders. "I resent the fact that I was manipulated, Cally. I don't regret the rest."

      Her eyes flew to his face, and she stared at him in startled awareness, beginning to feel a tentative happiness. "Avon?"

      "l don't know if I can be what you want me to be, Cally," he said, lifting his hands to cup her face. "But I am willing to try. I do care for you - though I don't know if it is enough."

      "It will do," she conceded as he drew her into his arms. "Oh, yes, it will do."

      

      Servalan heard the faint swish of the door opening behind her and she turned, her hand diving into her wide sleeve for her gun. The footsteps that approached her across the darkened viewport were familiar; after only one meeting, she recognised that long-legged stride, and she felt a thrill of anticipation as Supreme Commander Arpel joined her.

      "So here you are," he said, his voice deceptively mild. "And you have failed. I'm disappointed. I expected more from you."

      She had not given him a deadline though she was not surprised that he knew that her man had gone aboard Blake's ship. If he was any good at this job, he would have learned that before he came to confront her. She wondered if he, too, had someone planted with Avalon's people. He had followed her to Eridani Major, though, and now they looked up at the night sky together, she cool and ready to defend her life should it become necessary, and he leaning his shaggy head against the perspex window that afforded them their view. He seemed casually at ease, but she was far too familiar with power to mistake it when she saw it. Arpel was a dangerous man.

      "We were betrayed," she retorted angrily. "My man failed me. He promised what he could not deliver."

      "So did you, it seems. _We_ were betrayed, Sleer? I wonder."

      "Have you come to kill me?" she asked coolly.

      "Now why should I want to do that? I want Blake, Sleer. I don't want him roaming around making trouble for us, lending his name to the cause. The rabble believe in him. I can't permit him to continue. You tried to stop Blake before, and you failed. Now it is my turn. But you are not useless. You know Blake, and you know Avon."

      "Meaning?"

      "Meaning I can send you after them for me. If you hope to return to power, it will need to be over Blake's body."

      "And he will die," she agreed. "If a telepath cannot win back the ship, Blake can be forced to return it to us - Blake is a fool. He values his friends too much. Threaten them and Blake will break."

      "In order to threaten Blake, we must first capture him."

      "Of course."

      "So you'll hunt Blake?"

      She remembered her words to Travis long ago and responded now as he had responded then "While you hunt both of us?"

      "Precisely. I can't use you openly, Sleer. But you want to return to power and I want to keep it. For a time, our paths run in the same direction, do they not?" He looked down at her from his greater height. "We might even enjoy the experience."

      "I doubt that," she snapped. " _You_ do not trust me." But she thought he did, perhaps more than he should, and that could be used to her advantage one day.

      "Of course I don't. No more do you trust me. But I want Blake. I will turn you in without hesitation to save myself, as you would do to me. But if you find Blake, you will be rewarded for it." Probably with death, she thought cynically. "Death sentences can be commuted."

      "And if I find Blake and go over your head?"

      "Then you take the same risks I do. I don't doubt your courage and resourcefulness, _Servalan_ , and neither do I doubt your intellect. But I will watch you. You _are_ expendable. Remember that and we will get along."

      "Oh, spare me the promises, Arpel. We will _not_ get along. We will be adversaries, just as Blake and I are adversaries."

      He bared his teeth at her in one of his predatory smiles. "But you'll enjoy the challenge. Someone once said, where there is life, there is threat. Appropriate. Where is Blake now, do you know?"

      "Give me a ship and I'll find him."

      "Done." He looked down at her, studying the nondescript coverall and the curled hair. "I would suggest a more drastic disguise, Sleer. I would still have known you."

      "Others would not." She glared at him. "I mean to reclaim my power," she told him. "Preferably over your carcass."

      "You may try." He turned and walked away, presenting his back as a clean target. At the doorway he halted. "Your ship is waiting at the docking cradles. I've prepared for you a crew of mutoids. They will respond to you, should you use the code word 'revolutionary' to them."

      He left without further conversation and Servalan muttered a few choice curses to herself. When she returned to power, Arpel would be the first one to die. In the meantime, _she_ would use _him_. He was tall enough to be an excellent stepping stone to power.

      

      "All right," Blake told his crew. "Link mode. This time, I want all of us in the link"

      "You're a glutton for punishment, Blake," remarked Avon from his position. "We haven't managed this to your satisfaction yet."

      "No, but that doesn't mean I don't have faith in us," Blake replied. "Faith in _you_ , Avon. You won't let us down this time. I know that."

      "You're right," said Tarrant to Avon. "He is an optimist."

      Hugh didn't have a permanently assigned position but he usually took one of the rear seats, the ones that controlled engineering functions, though he knew rather less than nothing about engineering. He looked around the flight deck and smiled to himself. Tarrant might make sarcastic remarks, but he was as drawn to Blake as any of them. And Avon might complain, but Hugh knew better. It was Avon's nature to point out the weaknesses in Blake's plans, to fasten his dreams to reality. That Avon had a knack for making reality sound particularly unpleasant was something that the others were learning to cope with, but Blake himself would have been the first to admit that any idealist needed a healthy dose of pragmatism to keep him from getting out of hand and falling on his face. Even though the two of them disagreed, sometimes loudly, everyone on the flight deck knew that Avon would probably follow Blake into hell itself, still complaining loudly all the way.

      "All right, Tarrant," Blake directed, a smile on his face. "You come in first."

      Tarrant was getting good at it by now, and he linked quickly without further argument. Cally followed, her telepathic abilities and former link with Jabberwocky making it easiest for her. The others trailed them in, one by one, Dayna, Vila, Soolin. Hugh came next, welcoming the combined strength of the linkage, revelling in the shared warmth of the bond.

      "Avon?" Blake prodded.

      Avon came in coolly as if he had done nothing out of the ordinary, sending a sarcastic, //Very well, Blake, I'm here. Shall we save the universe now, or would you rather wait a bit?//

      //Let's practise first,// Blake suggested, his joy and amusement obvious to all the rest of them. //All right. Manoeuvres.//

      Avon was still blocking a little, but this time he went through his paces flawlessly, without argument. The ship came alive and Jabberwocky's joy at this optimum functioning swirled around them.

      Each of them performed his or her duties effortlessly, a part of the composite that the ship formed with them. Though they were all still recovering from the incident with Witt, they had learned that they _could_ recover from it. Jabberwocky had developed a series of defences to keep that kind of thing from ever happening again.

      Finally, reluctantly, they let go of the link and returned to their separate selves. Blake wore a triumphant look that was shared by Cally and Tarrant, who couldn't seem to get enough of the ship in link-mode. Vila promptly headed for the drinks dispenser for his inevitable glass of adrenalin and soma, and Soolin and Dayna bent their heads over the weaponry console, discussing some fine point of its function.

      Avon roused himself and stood up, stretching like a cat. He stalked over to Blake's position and leaned on the armrest. "Well, Blake?"

      "Well, Avon?"

      "You've had your way. What do you intend next?"

      "Our choices are simple. We fight the Federation ."

      "Or we don't," Avon replied.

      "Or we don't," agreed Blake. "What do you say?"

      "If I have a choice," Avon began in measured tones, then, when Hugh was beginning to worry about Avon's reply, he smiled, suddenly and openly, and without reservation. "We'll take on your Federation, Blake. You'll drag us with you all the way, so we may as well go voluntarily. I think we stand a better chance together, against Servalan, against the problems from Cally's dream." He stretched out a careless hand and plucked the glass away from Vila. "Try to stay sober, Vila," he told him with high good humour.

      Vila stared back at Avon with wide, startled eyes, then, unexpectedly, he smiled back. "Halves?" he asked hopefully, pointing at the glass.

      Avon raised the glass to his lips and drained it himself. "Headache," he pointed out. "You've had plenty of practice."

      "You'll learn," Blake assured him. "So we're going to save the universe after all?"

      "If we don't try, we'll never hear the end of it." He caught Cally's eye and smiled at her before he turned back to Blake. Hugh noticed the way her eyes warmed. "Besides, you need someone with sense. There's not an iota of it amongst the rest of you."

      Dayna, Tarrant and Soolin objected to that, but Blake grinned. "Oh, I accept, Avon. I'll hold you to it. That's a promise."

      "Make certain you keep it," Avon replied and turned away calmly. "If we're done flinging this ship around, I have work to do in the computer section. Vila you may come along and help me hold my tools."

      "Everybody always wants me to work," Vila mourned, but he bounced up cheerfully and trailed out after Avon.

      Tarrant turned and watched them go, then he looked over at Blake. "That _was_ Avon, wasn't it?"

      "Yes," said Cally serenely, sharing a smile with Blake.

      "And high time too," Blake replied, and everybody laughed.

 


End file.
